


When I Look at You

by stylesharrys



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love, mentions of emotional manipulation, mentions of fire, sad stuff my doodes, single mum reader, this is so long omfg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25491796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylesharrys/pseuds/stylesharrys
Summary: He’s a pop star, she’s his best friend. He has an album to write, she has a kid to raise. Supporting each other through thick and thin, it isn’t until he’s welcomed to the world of god-parenthood that he finally realises what’s always been right in front of him.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s), Harry Styles/Reader, Harry Styles/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	When I Look at You

**Author's Note:**

> a hell of a lot of angst and fluff, mentions of fire, emotional/mental manipulation, hella insecurities and solid, 30k worth of angsty slow burn and convincing unrequited love.

“You’re not keeping it, right?”

Her ears are ringing, like she can’t quite understand the words that have just come out of his mouth. She blinks; once, twice. “What?” She finally manages to ask. Her voice is timid and strained, her throat feeling like it’s crushed in a vice-like grip and she can’t swallow down the lump that’s lodged in it.

She watches Anson shrug his shoulders and shuffle closer to her on the sofa. He doesn’t seem distraught and he doesn’t seem happy. His face has remained completely neutral since she uttered the news and she feels sick. “I mean, are you sure it’s even _mine_?”

Her eyes widen, brows furrowed. She’s gonna throw up. Y/N blubbers breathlessly for a moment, standing from the sofa and holding her head in her hands as she paces in quick successions. “Are you _serious_ right now?” She pipes out, angry. “Of course it’s fucking _yours_ , Anson.”

He sits back, relaxing on her grey sofa and shrugs again. “How could you even say that to me?” she mutters. He doesn’t say anything, just stares and waits for his answer. She shakes her head. “I know we’ve only been together for two years and we’re not even _living_ together, and I know that we didn’t _plan_ this at all, but I’m pregnant with _your_ baby and I’m _not_ getting rid of it.”

There’s so much conviction behind her voice that she scares herself a little. No, it wasn’t planned for her to fall pregnant at 24 while not even being moved in with Anson. It wasn’t planned, but it happened.

He’s nodding his head as he bites at the inside of his cheek, trying to mull over her words. She expects him to agree, to apologise for suggesting everything he did. She expects him to pull her into him and reassure her that everything will be okay, that they’ll get through this together.

That’s not what she gets.

“I don’t want it. So if you’re keeping it, you’re doing it alone.” Her body is shaking, teeth gritted and jaw clenched. She can feel her anger boiling her blood, can feel nothing but hatred and disgust for the man she loved just moments ago and she’s livid.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

And he does. Anson doesn’t spare her another glance as he walks out of the door and the second it closes, Y/N chokes out a nauseating sob and falls to her knees. Her love, the man she wasted two years on, the one that promised to one day make her his wife, walked out on her and her child. On _their_ child.

She feels sick, she can’t hold it in. She’s heaving over the kitchen sink as sobs wrack through her body. _She’s gonna have to do this alone. Her baby is going to grow up without a father._ The painful reminders make her sick even more and she can’t get a grip of herself.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been curled up on her kitchen floor for. She doesn’t know when she fell asleep. But when she wakes up, it’s nearly 7 pm and she’s all cried out of tears. She hasn’t told anyone yet, besides Anson, and now she’s anxious at the thought of telling her family.

Y/n lets out a shaky breath as she stands and rubs her head, flicking the kettle on and sitting at the kitchen table. Her phone is sitting in the middle of it, face down and she wonders if she’s got any messages from Anson. Part of her hopes she’ll be met with hundreds of apology messages, that he loves her and he was wrong. The other part of her knows better. She knows it’s all wishful thinking, that she’s better without him.

She reaches for the phone with a sniffle anyway, greeted with a message from her Mum and a missed call from Harry. She doesn’t think she has it in her to reply to either but she opens her mother’s message anyway.

**Mum <3**

_Your dads broke his bloody finger again!! Told him to stop playing around with the washing line but he never listens LOL!! Give us a call later babe, have to go for a coffee or lunch tomorrow. Love u xx_

Her heart stammers in her chest and despite her predicament, she can’t help but smile in fondness of her Dad’s stupidity. She takes a deep breath and comes off her texts, decides she’ll talk to her Mum later and instead goes to her call log, ready to call Harry back.

Her thumb hovers over his contact for a moment, hesitantly. She isn’t sure if she wants to call him back, knows he’s going to pick up on her mood straight away. She opts for texting him instead.

**Y/N <3**

_Hey, what’s up? X_

She waits for a second, gnawing on her lower lip. He reads the message in a matter of seconds but the bubbles at the bottom of the text chain don’t appear or bounce. Instead, her screen is bright with the photo of them both backstage at one of his concerts a few years ago and he’s calling her. She lets out a shaky breath and clears her throat, accepting the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, love. Tried callin’ you earlier.” He greets softly, his voice a little gruff and she hums -- tries not to let it sound too strained. “Yeah, sorry. Fell asleep. What’s up?” She rushes out, clearing her throat when she can feel the lump starting to form again.

Harry waits a moment, catches her silent sniffle and she knows she’s fucked. “Wha’s a matter? You been crying? Y/N, wha’s going on?” She can imagine him sitting on the edge of his sofa, brows furrowed as he pinches at his bottom lip in worry. The thought only makes her burst into tears again and she’s blubbering down the line.

“I’m pregnant.” She’s choking on her own words, head falling in her hands and Harry’s frozen. He knows he should congratulate her but he can’t bring himself to. He can’t bring himself to be happy for her knowing exactly who the dickhead father is. But the way she’s sobbing suggests to him she isn’t happy, that Anson isn’t there and she needs him right now, more than ever.

“Put the kettle on, pet. I’m on m’ way round.”

She drops the phone the second he ends the call and she’s shaking as she stands to get two mugs out of the cupboard. She can’t seem to calm her breathing when she spoons two sugars into each cup, can’t seem to stop the trembling as she sets in the teabags.

She doesn’t actually realise how long it takes her to pour the water in the cups but she does know it takes Harry five minutes to drive to her place and she’s only just unscrewing the cap to the milk carton when he’s walking in her home and finding her shaking in the kitchen.

Harry feels his heart plummet to his feet. His best friend, the woman that has helped him through so much, is broken and distraught and can’t even keep herself standing on her feet. He takes the carton from her hands and pushes it away, tugging her into his hold as she crashes to his chest.

Y/N is a blubbering mess as she grips onto his shirt, tears staining and soaking it but he doesn’t care. His own eyes are welling with tears as he rubs her back and kisses the top of her head. “S’okay, love. S’all gonna be okay, promise.” But his words don’t do much to comfort her.

Harry pulls away just enough to cup her cheeks in his palms and wipe his thumbs across her tear-stained cheeks, leaning down to kiss her forehead. He leads her to the sofa, settles her down and finishes off making their tea. When she takes the cup from his hands, she sinks into her seat and Harry rests beside her, hand on her thigh and all Y/N can do is curl into his side, finding strength and peace in his touch and scent.

Harry’s mind is racing but he doesn’t say anything. He waits until she’s ready to tell him what happened, what’s going on. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder as she snuggles up to him, brows still furrowed and eyes heavy and she’s thankful he can’t see her face from their angle.

It’s twenty minutes of silence and Harry hasn’t touched his tea. It’s cold on the coffee table when Y/N pulls away to place her empty mug beside his full one. She turns to face him sheepishly, eyes a little swollen from her tearful evening and Harry sits up to brush her matted hair from her face.

His lips are pursed, worry in his eyes and he’s trying his damn hardest to not look at her tummy. She nibbles on her inner cheeks nervously, fumbling with fingers as she shifts to lean against the arm of the sofa so she can face him.

“Wha’ happened?” he finally speaks and Y/N’s bottom lip begins to tremble. She exhales an uneven breath and licks her lips. “Anson doesn’t want the baby,” she starts, eyes welling with tears again. Harry reaches for her -- intertwining their fingers and he squeezes her hand in reassurance. “Anson doesn’t want the baby, but I do, H. I know it wasn’t planned but it’s my baby, and now I have to do it all alone. A single Mum at 24, great.”

He pulls her straight into him, kissing the top of her head and he feels sick. He’s never particularly liked Anson, but knowing he’s left his pregnant girlfriend makes him red with anger. “Ya got me, babe. Got y’er parents and y’er sister. I’ll move in if ya need me to, y’know? Y/N, Bubby and Uncle Harry.” He tries to lighten the mood and while she’s thankful, she can’t help but cry harder, shaking her head and pulling away from him.

“Can’t ask that of you, H. Don’t be silly,” she tells him. “You’re halfway through writing your third album, gonna be planning a tour by the time I’m due,’ she reminds him. Harry frowns, knows what she means but all of which he can easily do while living with her and helping with the arrival of her baby. “And I don’t think Piper would appreciate you moving in with me and not her.” She adds.

Harry gnaws on his bottom lip. He won’t admit it, but he forgot about his girlfriend of eight months for a hot second. He shrugs. “Sure she’ll get over it.” Y/N snorts, shaking her head with a laugh. They both know she _won’t_ get over it and the thought of the drama gives them both a premature headache.

Harry stares at her for a moment, a small smile on his lips and his eyes are watering. “Y’er really pregnant?” He softly whispers in disbelief and Y/N nods, finally allowing herself to be happy about it. “I’m having a baby,” she whispers back with a nod, hands instinctively finding her tummy and Harry reaches for it too, holding it over her own hand and Y/N has to swallow back the cry that wants to be screamed.

She’s never admitted aloud how she feels for Harry. How a part of her has always had a feeling they might end up together somewhere down the line. They’ve always been too good to not end up married one day. But she’s pregnant now, with another man’s baby, and he’s in a happy, loving relationship.

She doesn’t feel sad about it, at least, not entirely. Her love for Harry has never held one of jealousy or anger to any other man or woman that has come into his romantic life. It’s been a love so strong and safe that never once has she doubted that she will always have him. A love so comforting that her gut has never given her reason to worry. Because she knew deep down that at some point he would one day be hers. Maybe not today or tomorrow, or even ten years from now, but one day.

But now, with his hand on her stomach, caressing the temporary home of her unborn child, she feels hopeless. She feels like now she needs to let go of the silly idea and feeling that he’s the one. She needs to stop thinking that one day he will realise how perfect they are together. She needs to stop and realise that maybe she’s wrong.

“Have you told your parents?” he pipes up after a long while of silence and her eyes widen, lips parted and she remembers that _no_ , she hasn’t told anyone. She shakes her head and Harry rolls his eyes. He takes their cups to the kitchen and grabs her phone on his way back to her, urging her to call them now while she still has the confidence to tell them.

They prop the phone on the coffee table, leaning it against an unlit candle and the FaceTime call connects to Y/N’s mother, Cilla, sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine and a kind smile. “And to what do I owe the pleasure? How are you, Harry?” She speaks up over her wine glass, a grin on her lips at the sight of the young man and he smiles back, leaning closer to be more in the frame.

“Hi, Cills. ‘M okay, how are you?” he asks with a cheeky grin, hand still on Y/N’s thigh but Cilla can’t see it as his body blocks most of her daughter. “We’re all good, Harry. Lovely to see your handsome face. Are you coming to lunch tomorrow with Y/N/N?” She chit-chats and as much as Harry would like to sit and talk to her, Y/N’s knee starts to jitter with nerves and he clears his throat, sitting back to allow her in the frame.

He squeezes her thigh in reassurance and Y/N sits forward, gnawing on her lower lip. “Actually Mum, I need to talk to you quick… are Dad and Akasha home, wanna speak to you all,” she blurts out. Cilla’s brows are pinched, eyes fluttering between Harry and Y/N but she calls for her father and sister anyway.

Harry intertwines their fingers together, a silent act of reassurance and she’s appreciative of it. Cilla, Daniel and Akasha all sit with timid smiles, worry lines etched on their forehead and none of them notices their intertwined hands. “What’s going on, button?” Daniel asks, face somewhat squashed between Akasha’s and Cilla’s.

Y/N purses her lips and rolls them between her teeth, puffing her cheeks out and squeezing Harry’s hand. “Well, um… I’m uh… I’m pregnant!” She blubbers with wide eyes and a frantic heart. Cilla’s jaw falls slack, palms cupping the sides of her face as Akasha screams in shock and joy. “Oh my Christ!” Cilla shrills, teary-eyed but Daniel hasn’t said anything yet.

Harry’s just as nervous beside Y/N, gnawing on his lower lip and he feels out of place, like he shouldn't be intruding on such a special moment. But Cilla notices the way their fingers are connected and her shriek grows louder, feet stomping on the ground in confused excitement because she thinks it’s his.

Y/N follows her mother's line of sight, lips parting and she shakes her head quickly, squeezing Harry’s hand and he catches on quickly to what Cilla is suggesting. “No, Mum. God, it’s not Harry’s.” She sounds pained, they all think and though her family know she’s been with Anson for two years, they can't hide their disappointed expressions that Harry isn’t the one that knocked her up.

It’s silent on both ends and it’s eating away at Y/N’s fragile mind. “Can someone say something, please?” she murmurs, voice shaky and unsteady. “Where’s Anson?” Akasha speaks up first, brows knitted on the twenty-year-olds face and Y/N’s eyes dart away from the screen.

“He’s not going to be in the picture.”

Cilla’s lip begins to tremble and she sheds a tear, hands trembling. “Oh, love…” she coos, shaking her head. Y/N doesn’t want their pity, she wants to know what they’re all thinking. Harry shuffles closer, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and pulling her into his side for comfort.

Cilla can’t help but shed another tear. She’s always loved Harry like a son, always hoped he and her daughter would have a life together one day. Y/N stares at her father’s blank expression through the screen and she frowns, licking her lips. “Dad?” Her voice is small, soft -- it reminds him of those times all those years ago, when she’d cry to him, scared and lonely from a nightmare.

He smiles through a silent cry and even though they all know it wasn’t planned, that everything will be messy from here on out, he couldn’t be prouder. “I’m not joining a bloody golf club.”

\-----

“I think pink would look good!” Akasha argues for the fifth time. They’ve been standing at the doorway of Y/N’s tiny spare room for the past five minutes, figuring out a way that she’ll fit all the baby furniture she’s yet to buy and Akasha is set on painting the nursery pink.

Y/N’s been shaking her head, arguing that she doesn’t know what she wants yet and that Harry will be the one to help her paint with Daniel, _not_ Akasha. “Have you heard from Anson?” It’s also been three weeks since she found out she was pregnant, which also means three weeks of not hearing anything from her ex.

They’ve just got back from her first scan. Cilla and Akasha had taken her for lunch and to her first appointment with her midwife. She got three copies of her little bean and she found out she’s nine weeks along. She shakes her head. “I sent him pictures of the scan but he hasn’t replied,” she tells her. Her voice is a little solemn as she holds the swell of her tummy.

In the past three weeks, she’s been graced with the starting joys of morning sickness. Given, it isn’t in the mornings, but at any random moment and it’s proved more than a little annoying. It was just the other day she had to tell Harry to shower at three in the afternoon because his usual cologne was fucking up her stomach.

Akasha scoffs. “He’s an actual wanker, Y/N. You don’t need him anyway, Harry can be the baby daddy.” Y/N doesn’t miss the teasingly wiggle in her brows and she swats her little sister with the back of her hand as they make their way downstairs. Y/N’s also beginning to feel the aches and pains in her feet whenever she walks, despite hardly having a bump to weigh her down.

“Go home, don’t want you here anymore,” Y/N groans out, plopping on her sofa and Akasha flicks her arm. “I’m just saying, Harry would never knock you up and walk out of your life,” she tries to reason, but Y/N really doesn’t want to get into her head about the idea of Harry being her baby’s father.

“Harry also only tends to sleep with models, which I am awfully far from.” She shuts her sister’s teases down and goes straight to kick her feet up on the coffee table. Akasha’s always been the same, trying to force the relationship upon them both. Y/N’s always tried to tell her she doesn’t care for Harry in that way and Akasha’s always seen right through it.

She hums, eyes squinted and Y/N pretends she doesn’t see it. She doesn’t really want to spend her evening deep in her feelings. “Well, I’m gonna get going, got that project to get done. Are you gonna be okay here?” she asks, leaning down to kiss her sister’s cheek and Y/N rolls her eyes again.

“Yes, Kasha. I’m pregnant, not crippled.” She huffs. “Besides, I’ve got a bunch of emails I need to respond to and I’ve still gotta get that paperwork sorted for work tomorrow.” Akasha nods, grabbing her purse. “Maybe you should call Harry, though. Get him to come round and help or something, relieve a little of that stress, maybe?” She’s wiggling her brows as Y/N throws a pillow at her face until she’s out of the door.

Y/N does gnaw on her lip, though, ponders over her words. Should she ask Harry to come over? She hasn’t heard from him in a couple of days but she also knows he’s been busy with Piper and her hormones have bubbled a lot of self-doubt within her recently.

She doesn’t want to seem clingy or annoying or overbearing. She wants attention and affection but she doesn’t want to be the one to ask for it. She just wants it and she wants it all from Harry. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s always had better control of her emotions and feelings toward Harry, but lately? It’s damn near impossible for her to not cry around him, knowing he isn’t hers to cuddle and kiss and love and cherish.

She hates it. And she’s started to grow an unwarranted dislike toward Piper, too. She won’t ever admit to it, she knows it’s stupid and irrational and completely ridiculous, but she can’t help how her hormones are making her feel lately.

She thinks maybe she’ll just watch a film and start reading on the parenting book she picked up at Tesco earlier today with Akasha, maybe make some snacks -- _she’s really craving crackers and cucumber_ \-- and relax alone.

But her phone is ringing before she can force herself to get up and Harry’s caller ID is on her screen again. She answers with a soft hello, rubbing beneath her sleepy eyes. “Hey, you back yet?” He asks through the line, sounding a little out of breath and her brows knit in curiosity.

“Yeah, been back for about an hour. What’s up?” Harry is still panting a little, voice strained as he lets off little grunts and Y/N wonders if he’s on a jog or at the gym. But then she hears a choked cry and she’s suddenly on high alert and her heart is thumping.

“H? What’s going on?” She hears another sob and she stands from the sofa, brows pinched tighter and she doesn’t know what to do. “Can I come round?” He asks through a sniffle, and Y/N doesn’t know that he’s already on his way. That he’s walked out with his heart breaking in search of comfort.

She nods quickly, forgetting that he can’t see her. “‘Course you can, Harry. Doors open, okay?” She promises, hand on the tiny swell of her belly and when Harry ends the call, she makes the quick attempt of grabbing him a beer from the fridge and bracing herself on the kitchen counter for whatever he’s about to tell her is going on.

She hears him open and close her front door, also hears him lock it behind him as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his coat. She knows he’s hanging his jacket on her coat rack and slipping his feet in the pair of slippers he’s kept at her house for months and he finds her waiting for him in the kitchen.

His face is blotchy with drying tears and she thinks he must be thankful it’s getting dark out so no one would notice him. His shoulders are sagging and his short hair is a mess, can tell he’s had his hands rubbing through it.

Her bottom lip pouts out and she opens her arms to him, embracing his body in a hold full of so much comfort that he can’t help but blubber into her neck and she soothingly rubs his back. “S’okay, H. S’gonna be okay, babe.”

He’s holding her close, mindful of the grape-sized baby in her tummy and he thinks he needs her close all the time, needs her to be with him to feel so serene and calm. When he pulls away, she’s cupping his face in her palms and wiping away his tears, gently cooing him and their chests are still pressed together.

Harry can’t look away from her and he doesn’t understand it. He looks at her and all he sees is someone that’s been on his side through everything. He sees one of the strongest women he’s ever had the privilege of knowing and he’s consumed with so much fucking love and appreciation for her that he feels like he might scream.

She’s always been the one to drop everything for him, to go out of her way just to see him smile. She’s always been truthful and honest and supported every decision he’s made. She’s always had his back and encouraged him to follow his dreams and ideas. She’s always been there.

So he supposed that’s what compels him to cup her cheeks in his hands and smear his lips against hers in an open-mouthed kiss. He supposes that it’s the shock of the situation that renders her frozen for a split second. He supposes that maybe it’s guilt that makes her kiss him back with just as much gentle vigour as he.

He supposes all of this, but Y/N can’t think straight about anything. Because Harry is kissing her and she can taste the sweetness of his lips on her tongue and she can feel his soul touch hers when she kisses back just the same.

She ignores the anxiety and worry that washes through her mind because she’s selfish and she doesn’t want to ever let go of him. She’s selfish because she doesn’t think she’ll ever get the chance to taste his lips again and her heart is breaking because she’s realising that this doesn’t actually mean anything to him. It’s just in the heat of the moment.

And she’s proven right when he’s pulling away slowly and pinching his eyes shut. He’s taking his hands off her face and covering his own, sucking in his bottom lip with pinched brows and Y/N can feel her eyes start to sting when she looks at him.

She can see the regret in his eyes, can see the twitch in his mouth in what she thinks is complete disgust in himself and Y/N feels sick. She feels so fucking sick.

“I’m sorry — I shouldn’t have done tha’, I’m sorry,” he apologises quickly. Y/N gnaws on her inner cheek and shakes her head, eyes on the floor as she wiggles her toes in her socks and she tries to pretend that her heart isn’t completely breaking.

“Harry, it’s okay.” She shakes her head again as she forces herself to look at him. She has no other choice than to sweep it under the rug and forget about it. She has to because she knows Harry and she knows if they talk about this, things will never be the same and she can’t fucking lose him. Not now, not ever.

So she shakes her head again and reaches for his hand. “Don’t pull that face. _It’s okay_. It’s just me, H. Never going anywhere.” He can’t seem to stop the tears at her admission of reassurance and he nods, wiping his nose and eyes and taking a deep breath. He lets her guide him in the living room, lets her sit him down on the sofa before she sits beside him.

She’s patient as she waits for him to speak, for him to tell her what’s going on. “She’s been cheatin’ on me,” he lets out in a silent breath and Y/N’s sure she feels her entire world crash in front of her. She feels sick again but this time she knows it’s got nothing to do with her pregnancy and she wants to beat the shit out of Piper. Now she feels like she has a perfect reason to dislike the girl.

“Walked righ’ in on her and some bloke she works with.”

Y/N’s seeing red, standing from the sofa with gritted teeth and tearful eyes. She’s angry. She’s so fucking angry because Harry is the kindest person she’s ever known and she doesn’t understand how someone could do something so damn cruel to him. How someone could willingly go out of their way to hurt him and to break his heart.

“Never fucking liked her, H. Fuck! How can someone -- why would she…. I just don’t understand how anyone could ever hurt you.” She cries out desperately, quickly trying to wipe her tears before they have the chance to slip down her flustered cheeks. She’s trying not to touch her lips in front of him, trying not to let him know how in her head that kiss has got her, how much she fucking needs him.

Harry pulls her back on the sofa with watery eyes and lets out a lighthearted laugh at her reaction. “Jus’ wanna forget about it, honestly. I’ve got you and Mum and Gem, and now your little baby, too. Most important people in m’ life, you four are. Don’t need anyone else righ’ now.” Y/N’s got her lips pursed tight and she nods, intertwining their fingers and bringing his knuckles to her lips to pepper a comforting kiss.

“I have something for you.” She tells him, leaning closer to press her lips to his forehead before she stands and sniffles away the solemn mood. Harry watches her sway to her purse, doesn’t miss the little bump bloating at her lower belly and he smiles.

She’s going to make such a good mother.

“Wha’ you been spoiling me to now?” he teases softly when she sits back beside him, a small brown envelope in his hands and she grins sheepishly. She hands the little package to him, **‘HARRY’** written in blocked letters in Y/N’s neat handwriting.

He side-eyes her for a moment, a gentle frown between his brows and his eyes are still stinging from the tears just minutes ago. He opens the envelope, fingers digging inside to find two pieces of card or rather, when he turns them over, two sonogram photos.

His eyes widen, welling with tears again and all he can see is something small, the size of a grape but fuck if he isn’t already completely in love with the bean in her stomach. “Oh my God,” he breathes with a smile. It’s like seeing the evidence makes it all the more real.

_She’s having a baby._

“I’m nine weeks along and right now they’re the size of a grape.” She tells him, proud smile on her face and he lunges for her, peppering kisses on her face and pulling back to hold her belly through her top. Y/N doesn’t want the barrier between them, so she bunches her top beneath her breasts and lets the cool skin of his hands meet her warm belly.

“‘Lo in there, love. ‘M gonna be y’er uncle, m’ names Harry and me ‘n your Mum love you loads.”

Y/N has to blink back tears and bite back a sob. She has to shake her head and remind herself that having Harry in her life as her best friend is better than not having him in her life at all and she’s grateful, of course, but it hurts.

She tries not to squirm when he kisses her tummy softly, tries not to cry when he pulls away to look at the scans again with so much adoration in his eyes. She tries to calm herself down but she thinks it might be hopeless and all she can taste is his fucking lips on hers.

“Can I keep these?” His eyes are still on the photos as she sits up and snuggles into his side. Y/N kisses his clothed shoulder before she rests her cheek on it and admires her baby with him.

“Course you can, H. They’re yours.”

\-----

She’s read all over that the morning sickness typically stops around the twelve-week park, but she’s now twenty weeks pregnant and she’s still suffering.

She also has a bump. A thick, round bump and she finally thinks she gets that whole pregnancy glow, despite having swollen ankles and lower back pains. It’s only now that she’s five months into her pregnancy that she’s finally starting to feel like a mother -- like her pregnancy is finally sinking in because she has a damn bump.

It’s cute, so she thinks, admiring it in the mirror as she bunches her shirt up and beneath her breasts, which have also filled out _very nicely_. She feels giddy with excitement and happiness. Maybe it also has something to do with the fact that in less than an hour, she’s going to find out the gender of her baby.

Harry was a bit reluctant to take her at first, claiming it’s something she needed to experience with her family but Y/N had quickly argued that to her, he _is_ family and she needs him by her side. Of course, after that, he jumped at the chance and she thinks he’s more excited than she is.

She’s had the odd cravings too, ones that have started to come in full swing at three in the morning. At first, she went through a crazy amount of love for jam on toast, and now it’s grown to something more. Pickles and ice cream. She still remembers the look of horror on Akasha’s face when she walked in on her eating them.

Harry’s been teasing her nonstop about it, though if she’s asked him to pick her up another jar of pickles, or a tub of vanilla ice cream, he happily stops at the shop and comes round for a cup of tea and to watch her demolish the whole tub and jar.

“Excited?” He asks, starting the engine and she squeals, nodding her head eagerly. In the past two months, the kiss still hasn’t been mentioned and if Y/N’s being honest, she’s thankful for it. She'd rather it be forgotten than having him tell her he’s never going to care for her in a romantic aspect. She knows she won’t be able to handle that kind of rejection.

“I mean, I don’t care if it’s a boy or girl, but I’m still excited. And honestly… I think it’s a girl.” Harry quirks a brow, pulling out of Y/N’s drive and making through the roads to take her to the nearby hospital.

“Oh? How comes?”

The hospital is only a ten-minute drive away but the two haven’t seen much of each other as of recent. Harry’s been stuck in the studio finishing up the album and Y/N’s been brisked away by the aunts and cousins of her family to fester over her swelling belly. They’re both quite enjoying being able to bask in the other presence.

Y/N shrugs. “Call it motherly instinct.” Harry grins, shaking his head.

She’s been using that a lot lately, _motherly instinct_. He’s heard Cilla tease about it over the phone when she called to invite him to lunch a few weeks ago. He just knew it was a matter of time before Y/N pulled it on him, too.

“Whatever it is, is gonna be the luckiest kid goin’,” he reassures her. She snorts out a laugh, tapping her fingers against her bump and then she feels it: a forceful tap back that has tears welling in her eyes as she yanks her hand away.

Harry eyes her between looking at the road ahead and she grabs his hand, forcing it on her bump. “Wha’ are ya…” Another kick. Harry’s eyes widen and he shrills and an exciting bolt of laughter, shifting in his seat and gripping the wheel.

“Did they jus’—“

“They just kicked!”

When they get to the hospital, they walk side by side to the reception and get checked in and Harry’s got his hood up. Despite the world knowing about their friendship, neither of them want her pregnancy plastered across the internet. Neither of them really want the fans and media speculating that it’s his baby.

That’s why Harry was so unsure about taking her today.

They don’t have time to fester in paranoia because a midwife is calling out Y/N’s name and taking them both in a private room. They’ve both got big grins on their faces as Y/N greets Zoe, her midwife, again and sits on the bed with her short legs dangling off.

Harry closes the door behind them and takes a seat in the spare chair. He’s dressed casually for Y/N’s appointment -- grey joggers and a black t-shirt with his hoodie over it. Y/N always favours him in comfy clothes like this, thinks he looks like a proper boyfriend, but that’s never been something she could really admit aloud.

“How have we been? Is this Dad?” Zoe asks, nose stuffed in her clipboard and both Y/N and Harry’s cheeks blush crimson. “Oh, God, no. No, we’re just friends. But good! Felt their first kick on the way here.” Harry doesn’t get the chance to entertain the idea of him being the father because Y/N shuts him down the second his mouth open snd he has to pretend the way she quickly corrects her doesn't hurt him.

Zoe blushes visibly, getting a look at Harry and he knows she finds him attractive. “Sorry, my apologies,” she giggles softly and Y/N laughs in hidden confusion and slight awkwardness. She’s acting bashful and shy and Y/N knows for a fact it’s only because Harry is in the room and now she’s starting to wish she told her Harry is the father.

It’s silent in the room for a few moments before Y/N is instructed to lay on the table and lift her shirt below her breasts. This is the first time Harry’s really seen her round bump in person and his eyes widen and lips part at the sight.

“Bloody hell, love.” He makes his way over, standing just beside her head and she reaches for his hand, needing the comfort right now. And maybe to rub in Zoe’s face to back off. Harry intertwines their fingers and leans down to kiss the top of her head, brushing some hair back.

Y/N can’t help but wonder if this is what he would be like if he was in the delivery room when she has her baby. She knows she needs a birthing partner and while she’s aways wanted Cilla by her side, she knows her mother is useless in times of pain and blood.

It was only the other month when Daniel broke his finger again and Cilla passed out over the broken bone. She could have her dad, she supposes, but she doesn’t think she’s that comfortable to have him in the room with her when she pushes a human out of her vagina.

She knows she wants Akasha by her side, there’s no doubt about it. Y/N’s already decided her little sister will be her baby’s godmother, but she also knows that Akasha takes after their mother in the blood department and she really can’t be dealing with her birthing partner passing out mid labour.

She doesn’t have many friends, more acquaintances than anything and she doesn’t know or trust them enough to be in the room with her when the time comes. The only person she knows she can trust and rely on and wants by her side the second her child takes their first breath is Harry.

“Okay, this is going to be cold,” Zoe tells her, smearing the clear blue gel across her tummy and she hisses at the cool feeling. Harry’s pretty mesmerised about it all, eyeing up the equipment cautiously and his thumb is stroking across Y/N’s knuckles soothingly -- an act that does nothing but calm her nerves and melt her heart.

Zoe attaches the wand to the machine and with a flick of the switch she presses it to Y/N’s taut skin and the swishing noises fill the room and their ears are met with the healthy heartbeat of her baby. Tears are prickling at Harry’s eyes and he feels so fucking thankful that she’s choosing to share this moment with him.

“All looks good, sounds healthy. Very strong heartbeat, which is amazing.” Zoe’s tongue is poking out the corner of her mouth as she watches and tries to find the perfect angle for the camera on the wand to get the baby. It takes a few moments, but she gets there and Y/N and Harry can see the bub.

The size of a banana, as Zoe tells them, the baby is just a little under 11 ounces. Y/N doesn’t stop herself from having a silent cry, a giant grin on her lips because she’s so damn happy and excited. “Would you like to know what you’re having?” Zoe finally asks the awaiting question and Y/N’s grip on Harry’s hand tightens.

He squeezes it back. “You know what it is?” she whispers to her midwife, nodding her head and swallowing. “I wanna know.” There’s a moment of silence between the room and Y/N supposes it’s Zoe trying to make it even more suspenseful. She keeps the wand on her tummy as the machine captures stills of the scan.

“It’s a girl.”

\-----

“It’s a girl!” Y/N screams into the phone, cheeks aching from her constant smiling but the cheers of her family makes it all the more worth it. Harry is grinning from the stove, watching Y/N speak with her family on FaceTime and his own happiness is rolling off him in waves.

A mini Y/N. _Harry’s fucked._

“Oh, baby! A little granddaughter!”

“A niece! I have a niece!”

Harry grins as he stirs the spaghetti in the pan, promised Y/N he’d cook her whatever dinner she wanted tonight and she’s been craving pasta since they left the hospital. “I’m so excited, I can’t wait to start decorating the spare room.” She tells them. “Harry and I are gonna go shopping tomorrow to get madam her furniture and hopefully start painting next week, depends on his schedule for the studio.”

Daniel, Cilla and Akasha all share a look, one that suggests something will eventually come out of the two of them but Y/N gives them a hard glare and shakes her head. “It went alright though, yeah? Harry go home after he dropped you off? ‘Cause we can come round and get a Chinese if you want, darling.” Daniel changes the subject, smile still wide on his face and Y/N’s heart flutters.

“It’s okay, Harry’s staying and we’re just making some dinner now,” Y/N tells them. Harry wanders to the camera, Y/N’s bright pink apron wrapped around his tall body and he’s got a pair of tongs in his hands that he waves at the woman.

“S’cuse me, love. _You_ haven’t got up since we go’ back.” He jokes teasingly and Cilla barks out a dirty chuckle on the call. “You’ve gotta look after her, H. She’s having a little girl.” Daniel curtly nods, tries to play the scary and protective father but it’s all a useless facade and they all know it.

Harry plays into it, though. “Yes, sir. ‘M always gonna look after the both of ‘em.” Y/N thinks her heart sinks to her stomach, nearly shitting it out at his innocent confession and Akasha notices the clear tears that threaten to spring to her eyes.

_Dammit, Y/N. Get your hormones together._

The call ends shortly after. Cilla had advised Y/N to stay away from the meatballs, said that red meat was awful on her stomach both times she was pregnant, so Y/N’s digging her fork into some awfully cheesy spaghetti while Harry has about twelve meatballs buried in his.

It’s with a mouthful of the stringy pasta that she calls his name softly, voice muffled but he looks at her mid-chew and nods, taking a sip of his water. _If you can’t have a glass of wine, ‘m not gonna have a beer_. She finishes her mouthful and wipes her clammy hands on her jeans -- the first item of maternity clothing she’s ever worn and she loves the elastic waist.

“So I have a question, and it’s a pretty important question and I’ll only be _a little_ heartbroken if you say no.” She laughs out nervously. Harry doesn’t like the way she’s avoiding eye contact so he reaches across the table for her hand and snatches her attention.

“Love,” he softly coos. “S’fine, just say what ya need t’ say.” His encouraging words have her nodding her head and with a deep breath, she lets her shoulders relax and she leans closer over the table.

“I was uh… I was wondering if you’d be Daisy’s godfather?” She lets out, eyes hopeful and teary and Harry thinks he can’t breathe. He stares at her for a moment and he doesn’t know what he’s fixated on more. Being asked to be the godfather, or hearing the name of her little girl.

“Daisy?” he chokes. His eyes flicker over to the bouquet of daisies and sunflowers he grabbed her after the appointment when she stayed in the car and he ran to grab stuff for dinner. His heart feels full and so heavy and he wants to sob and sob and sob until he can’t cry anymore because fuck, he thinks he might be in love with her.

She nods, tearful. “Yeah… what do you think?” He blubbers out a laugh and stands from his seat just as she does. “I think I love my goddaughter and her mother very much.” He rounds the table to take Y/N into his arms and she can’t help but feel so safe and complete, having his strong arms around hers as her little girl stays safe and warm between them.

“Thank you,” he whispers into her head, kissing her temple but she pulls away, wiping back tears and asks him to sit back down because she’s not finished. He does, pulls his chair closer to hers so they’re no longer right across from each other, but rather right next to one another.

“Wha’ more could you possibly say right now?” he jokes as he wipes his face. Y/N’s still nervous, knows what she’s about to ask is just as big as asking him to be Daisy’s godfather. She reaches for his hand and intertwines their fingers again -- something that seems to be an apparent comfort thing as of late.

She breathes out a nervous laugh. “Well, um. I was also wondering if maybe you’d like to be my birthing partner? Y’know, go to all those birthing classes with me and hold my hand and be there when she’s born…”

There’s a sickening silence as he just stares at her and she thinks he’s about to walk out, that he’s going to laugh and tell her no, that he has better things to be doing, that it isn’t his priority, that she isn’t his child. She knows she’s being irrational but hormones have fucked her head and all she is right now is a bundle of self-doubt.

“Or not, like I get it if you don’t want to or have better things to do. It’s okay, really, I promise.” Her throat is burning as she tries not to cry through her words and she feels like she has to make it clear it’s okay if he decides not to, that maybe then it won’t hurt so much.

He notices her shaky and uneven tone, the way her voice sounds strangled and strained. He never wants to hear her so doubtful about him ever again. Harry blinks. “I’m gonna be there, through all of it. Gonna hold ya hand and let ya break it when the pain gets too much. Gonna sit behind ya and hold ya belly in all the classes. Gonna be there for all of it, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”

She sobs into her hands, a mess to him, surely. He pulls her into his side, knows there’s no use in either of them finishing their dinner, their appetites long gone but he doesn’t mind. Harry would always put Y/N and her comfort first and she knows it. Maybe that’s what’s got her so upset.

He doesn’t understand that everything he said is everything she wants but in the worst way she could ever have it. And yes, maybe she is selfish. But the heart wants what the heart wants, and hers wants him.

“I’m sorry.” She pulls her head from her face and wipes at her eyes, taking a deep breath and plastering on that fake smile that kills Harry every time. “I mean it, Y/N.” His voice is stern, eyes hard as he holds her. “I’m gonna be here through it all.”

\-----

She doesn’t know what disrupts her from her sleep. It’s 1:30 am and she should be sleeping, but something startled her awake. She’s sitting up in bed, ears straining for a possible noise that may have disrupted her once peaceful slumber. When she hears nothing, she gets ready to settle back on her pillow, but a frantic crash is heard from downstairs and she’s belting out of bed and into her wardrobe with her phone.

Her hand is over her mouth, trying to silence her breathing but it’s loud and desperate, even through her nose and she unlocks her phone to text the only person that may possibly be in her home at one in the morning.

**Y/N <3**

_Are you downstairs?????????_

The crashes get louder and more frantic, like someone’s tearing apart the downstairs of her house.

**H x**

_What in your house? No x_

_Why?_

_Is someone in the house?_

_Y/N what’s going on????_

She doesn’t waste any more time texting him, dialling 999 in half a second and she keeps the phone to her ear, turning the volume down so she can barely hear it over her pounding heart and she’s connected with someone almost immediately.

“I need the police, someone has just broken into my house. I’m upstairs and I’m hiding in my wardrobe.” The operator tries to calm her frantic state, asks for her address and her name but Y/N’s still shaking when she tells her. “Please, I live alone and I’m pregnant and I can hear things smashing and breaking.”

“Stay on the line with me, Miss. Have you seen anybody? Do you know how many people are in the house?” Her calm voice speaks through the near-silent line and Y/N’s a mess, sobbing into her hand and clutching her stomach.

She shakes her head, realises she can’t see her. “No, the noises woke me up. I don’t know how many there are. Please hurry.” She tries to ignore phone vibrating in her hand from the insistent messages from Harry, feels even sicker and she knows she’s worried him.

Her stomach knots at the thought of him possibly coming to her house, to check if she’s okay. She feels sick. What if he gets hurt? “Please, you have to hurry,” she begs, struggling to catch her breath as she whispers out her words in a rushed breath.

“Miss, two officers have been dispatched and they are approximately thirty seconds away.” Y/N inhales a shaky breath, frozen when she smells it; the ashy, burning scent that fills her nose. Then panic settles in. “I can smell smoke, you need to send a fire engine… I think there’s a fire.”

“Police!”

“They’re here, the police are here.” Y/N says, hanging up the phone and crawling out of the wardrobe as quietly as she can. “Hello? Anyone home?” An officer calls out and Y/N feels sick. She’s scared and vulnerable and with her phone clutched in her hand, she takes a step toward her bedroom door.

“I’m upstairs but I smell smoke! I don’t know if anyone’s still downstairs,” she calls out, hands cradling her stomach and footsteps make her back up against a wall in fear, whole body trembling.

A woman in uniform makes her presence known, hands up in surrender and she asks if Y/N is okay, notices the large swell of her stomach and Y/N sees her shoulders fall slightly. “It’s okay. My name is officer Jules, there’s no one downstairs but a fire has started in the kitchen so we need to get you out of here.”

It’s all white noise to Y/N as she lets the policewoman guide her down the stairs. She doesn’t miss the completely trashed home she’s been left with. Her furniture has been thrown across the place, sofa torn and ripped to pieces. Her photo frames are smashed and broken, shattered glass across her floors. There’s graffiti up her walls and on her smashed TV screen.

Her entire life she’s built in this little house is gone, shattered and broken and completely destroyed. She blubbers out a broken cry, pinching her eyes shut tight with her hands on her tummy as Jules escorts her outside.

There’s a police car at the end of her drive, two more officers taking into their intercoms and Y/N is blown into a full panic attack. She can already hear the sirens of the fire engine coming closer, a cold sweat breaking on her skin. All her memories are stuck inside and she doesn’t know what she’s going to do if she loses everything she has.

She’s trying to make sense of the situation, to figure out why and who and what the fuck is going on. She doesn’t hear a car come screeching to a halt behind the police and she doesn’t hear the frantic calls of her name until a pair of hands are on her lower back, gently moving her away from a suspected stranger who’s ignoring the police’s prompts to stand back.

Jules comes between Y/N and Harry as she’s guided over to the other two officers to take her statement and it’s like Y/N still hasn’t registered his presence yet. “Sir, do you know this lady? I need to know your relation to her.” Harry’s ripping hir hair out, eyes flickering from a shivering Y/N to her busted front door where he can see into her tore apart living room.

“I’m her -- I’m her boyfriend,” he blags, distraught and all and he’s itching to have her in his arms. The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy her and she tries to escort Harry back to his car but he’s standing his ground, shaking his head and tears are fresh in his eyes.

“No, please. She’s pregnant wi’ my baby.” His frantic state finally catches Y/N’s attention and she turns around, eyes wide and body trembling at the sight of him. “Harry,” she sobs, pushing past the officers and straight into his arms. He pulls her to the side, arms around her in a tight grip as the fire brigade dismantle from the truck and make their way inside.

“S’okay, babe. I’ve got ya, love. S’okay.” He’s whimpering through his own tears of fear and worry and Y/N won’t let go of him -- won’t unwind her arms from his body as a heart-aching sobs rips through her soul.

She’s incoherent against his chest, a blubbering mess that Harry can’t understand but he makes no effort to pull her away and get her to talk to him. He knows what she needs, knows that she needs to feel safe in his arms and protected and he will do anything to make sure she knows he will always keep her safe.

Through the commotion of it all, Harry has to help her finish her interview with the officers, tells them that he got the texts and came straight over. The firemen tell her she can’t access the building for at least 24 hours and Harry jumps at the opportunity to have her stay at his place.

She’s passed out in the car by the time he gets back to his place and Harry scoops her up in his arms and carries her inside. He doesn’t think twice about settling her in his bed, kissing her forehead and keeping the door open as he goes downstairs to make a phone call.

He tells her parents -- apologises for waking them up so early in the morning but he tells them what he knows and that she’s staying at his place. Tells them he wants her to stay there through the rest of her pregnancy but he knows it’s something he and Y/N need to have a proper conversation about in the morning.

By the time he comes back upstairs, it’s almost 4 am and he’s had time to cancel his interviews for the next few days. He’s crawling in bed beside her, a pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt on his body as he settles on his side. He cuddles up to her, lets her body relax and his moulds around hers.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers against the shell of her ear. Despite knowing she’d never let him blame himself, he still does. He still hates that she could’ve been hurt, that her _baby_ could have been hurt. He knows she’s due in two months, that her seven-month swell is taking its toll on her and he wants to keep her safe for the rest of his life.

He’s torn. Because on one side, he wants to care for his best friend until his dying breath and on the other, he’s yet to tell her that in the past week and a half, he’s met someone — someone fantastic and funny and smart and beautiful. He’s yet to tell her that he thinks this someone could be the one for him. Because he knows if he tells her, she won’t let him help her, won’t let him dote on her anymore and he doesn’t want to lose her.

And he knows laying beside her, with her fragile body in his arms, is wrong. He knows he has someone that is willing to get to know him, to learn to love him. He knows he has another lover that he feels so strongly for. He knows it’s wrong but he can’t bring himself to let go of her.

When morning comes, Y/N is clinging. He expected it, knew it was coming but it doesn’t make it easy for him to unfold her arms that clasp around his middle to sit her down and talk to her.

How does he do this?

He wants her to stay with him until Daisy is born, and even after, but he also needs to tell her about Kelsey and how he feels about her. Her brows are pinched together when he sits her down at his kitchen table, breakfast finished with.

He can still see the anxiety and fear in her eyes after last night, so he reaches for her hands and kisses at her knuckles. “I need to talk to you about something.” His words have her heart hammering in her chest and of course, she thinks the worst.

_He doesn’t want to be Daisy’s godfather. He’s having second thoughts and he doesn’t want to be in the room when she’s born._

She nods slowly, stressing on her bottom lip with nervous nibbles and Harry swallows. “I want ya t’ stay here, wi’ me until ya have Daisy. Jus’ so I know ya safe after last night. And y’er gonna start to really struggle the next two months and I wanna be able to help ya. Even after she’s here, wanna be able t’ feed her in the night so you can get your sleep. Wanna be here for ya wi’ it all, so I think ya should move in for a bit. Can’t exactly go home, can ya.”

She wants to jump and scream, wants to kiss him and let herself believe that this is his way of taking it further, that maybe he’s realising he feels the same as she does, that maybe he wants her the way she wants him. But she sees the flicker of doubt in his eyes and she knows there’s something else he needs to say.

“ _But…_ ” she spurs him on, her voice timid and a little broken. He frowns. “I know that look, H. There’s a _but_ coming, so what is it?” She looks at him expectantly, ready for her heart to be torn out of her chest and he clears his throat, lets go of her hand. Doesn’t feel like he should be holding her when he tells her.

“S’not necessarily a _but…_. but I have uh… I’ve met someone.” There’s a pause, a long, crushing pause and Y/N swallows back the bile that crawls up her throat to throw on her best smile and she wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. It gives her a moment to let her facade fall and a tear slip but she pulls away as quickly as she hugs him and wipes her face, grinning big.

Harry’s sceptical of her reaction, tries to see behind the glimmer in her eyes but when she puts up that block that doesn’t let him see anything past what she wants him to, he’s forced to believe her.

He’s grabbing her hands again before she can say anything on the matter. “Doesn’t change tha’ I want you to stay here, though. It’s still all so new but I wanted to make ya aware if you saw her wandering around the place and stuff. Think she might be the one, Y/N.”

She feels frozen, numb. Though she can feel her heart shatter and the pain of it radiating down to her fingertips, she can’t feel anything else. She can’t feel her hand in his, can’t feel his breath on her face from how close they’re sitting, can’t feel his knee bumping hers as he shuffles on his seat. She can’t feel anything but everything hurts.

Y/N blinks, struggles to keep herself sat on her chair and not slink to the floor. She lets go of his hands to hold her bump and she feels all alone again, abandoned. He promised he’d be there through everything, but now she knows that he won’t be.

She’s selfish, to feel so hurt by this, she knows. She knew all along that he would eventually find someone and fall in love again and have his own family. She knew her and Daisy wouldn’t always be his priority, as much as he’d tell her they would be. She knew -- she expected it, but it hurts.

She clears her throat, winces at the way it burns and stings after, like maybe it’s a sign she shouldn’t say it but she needs to take a step back, she needs to stop hurting herself. “Actually uh, I think it’d be best if I moved back in with Mum and Dad. I need to be around family right now and I don’t want to get in the way of you and this girl you’ve met.”

_I need to be around family right now._

Harry feels sick and struggles to pretend what she said doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t remind her that only months ago she was calling him family when she wanted him in the room when she goes into labour. He wonders if she still wants him there but he doesn’t bring it up.

Instead, it’s his turn to swallow back the bile and nod slowly. “Y’know y’er never gonna get in the way. Always gonna choose you ‘n Daisy. Y’er always gonna be my main priority.” She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tell him she doesn’t believe it, that it’ll all change soon enough.

Y/N nods and forces on a small smile, leaning close to feel his body on hers again. They stay like that for a while and it’s like they both know things aren’t going to be the same for a little while. They don’t get it, what the other feels, but there’s still that unspoken understanding that maybe they should take a step back from each other.

\-----

She’s got a headache and everything is starting to annoy her. Eight months into her pregnancy and Y/N wants to be done with it. For the past three days, she’s been sitting, looking for a nice two-bed flat but she’s yet to find anything affordable and not in a dodgy neighbourhood.

She’s been back home for an entire month now and has hardly spoken to Harry since. She’s withdrawn for him for her reasons but she doesn’t understand why he’s withdrawn for her. It was awkward at the birthing class last week. He picked her up and they were mistaken for a couple, to which he was quick to correct the instructor and Y/N was left feeling blue.

They were supposed to go for lunch right after, to have a proper catchup and maybe do a bit of flat hunting for when Daisy gets here so she can move out of her parents again. But when they got out of the birthing class, his phone was blowing up and Kelsey was making it more than clear that she wanted Harry and she wanted him there and then.

Y/N had to pretend she didn’t see the striking blush on his cheeks as he read over the messages and she got him to drop her off at her parents and told him she had stuff to do for work anyway. He knew it was a load of bullshit, that her maternity leave started two months ago and yet he left her anyway.

She hasn’t spoken to him since and she misses him. She’s been crying herself to sleep as she coddles her bump at night. She misses him and his touch and his goofy jokes at random moments. She wishes to God she agreed to stay at his place but she also knows she wouldn't have been able to stomach the sight of him loved up with a new girl that he thinks is the love of his life.

“Fuck sake,” she curses under her breath, pushing her laptop away and she takes a deep breath, pinching at the bridge of her nose as she stands from her bed. That’s one thing she’s thankful for. Her parents never changed her room when she first moved out three years ago.

She rubs over the swell of her tummy, wearing just a pair for sweats and a sports bra. She’s been struggling recently. Her back is aching, her feet are always swollen. Her nipples have started leaking and her skin is going through odd breakouts out of nowhere. She’s hating this part of her pregnancy and she has three and a half weeks until she’s due but she wants it over with.

She’s got a wobble when she walks now, holding onto the railing when she descends down the stairs and she supposes that if she moves into a flat, she needs one with a lift because she won’t be carrying a pushchair up and down multiple flights of stairs.

“I have it! I have the perfect place!” Akasha comes rushing into the kitchen, pieces of paper in one hand and her phone waving about in the other. Daniel turns the stove off at her frantic state, Cilla putting down her mug of coffee and Y/N takes a seat beside her mother, kissing her cheek and leaning her head on her shoulder.

The kitchen table is still full of gifts she received from the baby shower Akasha had planned -- decked out with clothes and baby toys and a couple of cute things for Y/N for when she’s able to fit in non-maternity clothes. It was a sweet gesture, just not one that she asked for. And honestly, now that she thinks of it, she doesn’t think Harry got her anything. Not that she’s complaining or could ever -- he’s helped her with more than she’ll ever be able to thank him for.

She knows she could really just move back into her old house but after finding out it was a couple of kids that had easily broken into her home at the dead of night and set her kitchen in flames, she doesn’t want to go back there, even after the refurnishing is finished. She wants to be somewhere else, somewhere safer.

They managed to save most of her furniture and Daniel has opened up a storage unit to put all of her stuff until she can move out. “What are you on about, love?” Cilla asks with a mouthful of toast and Akasha sets the papers on the table excitedly.

“Y/N’s new house, I found it and it’s perfect. It’s two bedrooms, cute garden out back, own garage and all. It’s a townhouse about thirty minutes away and it’s gorgeous.”

Y/N eyes the papers she sets down, the screenshots of the listing that Akasha has printed out and her eyes widen, almost choking on her spit. “It’s also two grand a month rent! I can’t afford that, Akasha.” She feels just as hopeless as she did before her sister showed her the property.

Akasha shakes her head. “Ah, but get this, _it’s not_. Because I spoke to the realtor and the last tenant _died_ there, can you believe that? So the rent is automatically knocked right down and you’ll be able to move in once you have Daisy.”

Y/N stares at her for a moment, blinking with raised brows. “So you want me and my newborn child to move into a possibly haunted house?” It comes out as more of a statement than a question and Cilla snorts beside her, Daniel giggling as he turns back to the stove.

They’ve all found Y/N’s lack of filter amusing in the past month and often have to bite their tongue and hold back laughter or Akasha gets aggy about it. She huffs. “It's not haunted,” she mutters back and Y/N sighs. “Look, even with the rent dropped, I can’t afford it on my wages, Kasha. It looks beautiful and I’d love to live there but I can't afford it.”

Akasha is gnawing on her inner cheek, biting back a smile and Y/N is getting a little annoyed now. What is it with people having something to say but not actually saying it. She cocks a brow and Akasha pulls a chair to her side, grin on her lips as she clasps her hand on the table.

“Well, what if I told you that Miranda is looking for a new design representative and perks include flexible office hours, working from home, free child care, 50% off and a work car?” She starts, head low but she’s grinning at Y/N from the angle she’s at and Cilla’s eyes are wide as she gawks at her daughters.

“And what if I told you I happened to put your name forward and she’s going to be giving you a call later today to see if you'd be interested?”

It’s no secret Y/N loves her job but not the people she works with, that she’s always wanted to work in design but being a design representative is another level and she knows the company and brands her little sister has worked for since she was an intern three years ago at one of the biggest in the UK. 

“You did what?” She asks, can’t quite believe her ears and Akasha nods, excited and eager and desperate for her big sister to finally get the life she deserves.

Y/N leaps up from her chair in a quick squeal, her hands on her tummy as she pulls her sister into her arms. “I need to call Harry!” She announces eagerly, racing for the stairs and for a moment, she doesn’t remember that she’s a little mad at him for not loving her the way she does him -- she’s too excited to remember.

It takes three rings before he answers her call, panting and breathing heavy just like before but she doesn’t notice it at first. “H! You’re not gonna believe it! We found a house that’s perfect and it’s pricey but I could end up with my dream job at the end of today so this is all gonna work out! Can you believe this! Harry, I’m so happy, you need to come round to Mum and Dad’s!”

Then she hears the creak of the bed and a girlish whine and he pants down the line through a happy laugh. Her smile fades when she realises what she’s just interrupted and she isn’t sure she wants him to come round now.

“Love, that’s amazing! Christ, okay. Lemme get sorted and I’ll be round in about half an hour. Fuck, ‘m so happy for you, love.”

She can hear Kelsey mutter something in a grumpy tone as Harry rushes to get his clothes on. She doesn’t get the chance to tell him not to worry about it before he’s blowing a kiss down the phone and ending the call.

Y/N doesn’t understand why he’s eager to see her after a week of silence. She doesn’t understand that he’ll willingly leave Kelsey in his bed, unsatisfied, just to celebrate the good news with her. She doesn’t understand and she doesn’t let the realisation of it register in her head.

Instead, she focuses on the fact that he’s happy with another woman, that he’s loving up another woman with his heart and body and she doesn’t get that. She focuses on the fact that he’s with her and not Y/N.

When she gets downstairs again, Akasha is on the phone, confirming details with the realtor to get a viewing and Daniel is popping open a bottle of Champagne while Cilla watches with weary eyes, not ready for him to break his finger for the third time.

She hates herself because now she can’t find it in her to be happy about her own news. She’s no longer relieved to have a place to live, she’s no longer excited about the new job, all because of Harry.

It’s twenty minutes later when she hears his voice flood through the house as he lets himself in. He wanders in the kitchen with flushed cheeks and sexed-up hair, holding a bunch of sunflowers and daisies and a bottle of rosé.

Despite her sour mood, her heart still warms to see him and she can feel Daisy start to kick about in her stomach. She’s noticed that a lot, how responsive her little girl is to Harry’s presence and the sound of his voice.

She taps her belly again. “Guess who’s here,” she coos quietly to her bump and she feels Daisy kick her again, a little harder this time and it’s like she senses when Harry gets closer to her.

“Congratulations!” He cheers happily to his best friend, palming off the flowers and wine to Cilla as he pulls Y/N into his warm arms, mindful of her belly. “‘M so proud of you,” he murmurs in her ear, kissing her temple as he leans back and sinks to his knees to cup her belly and kiss it over her top.

“‘Lo, Princess. Hope you’ve been good fo’ y’er Mum,” he chastises playfully and all Cilla wants to do is force them in a room to talk out their feelings. It kills her to see them so domestic yet so platonic.

“Hi.”

All eyes snap to the unfamiliar voice that comes from a tall woman standing at the kitchen door. Harry stands with blushed cheeks as he backs up to her side and all smiles are quickly wiped from Y/N’s families faces.

Harry clears his throat. “Everyone, this is Kelsey, m’ girlfriend. Hope ya don’t mind her tagging along. Figured I’d be introducing you lot to her soon enough anyway.” Cilla’s eyes are wide as she forces on a smile and welcomes her, looking back to her daughter with so much pain in her eyes that Y/N can’t hold eye contact.

“Kels, this is Cilla, Daniel, Akasha.” He waves his hand around to each of them, giving her time to smile and shake their hands and Harry stops at Y/N, a nervous smile on his face but Y/N doesn’t want to have to pretend to be okay in her own home.

But she does, though. For him. “And this is Y/N and baby Daisy.” There’s a proud smile on his face when he introduces his love to his best friend with so much adoration in his voice. Y/N’s family watches the exchange when Kelsey offers her hand to her.

“Nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard a lot about you,” Y/N greets politely, biting back the bitter taste on her tongue and Harry is gleaming, thinks they’re going to get along just fine.

Kelsey plasters on a smile on her perfect face, though Y/N can see right through it. “Wow, you’re huge, nice to meet you, too.” She blinks at the comment, forcing a light laugh to tumble from her lips. “I’m _pregnant_.” She corrects her through gritted teeth, forcing another laugh as to not seem like a raging bitch.

Harry throws at arm over her shoulder, offering her a glass of champagne as he takes a sip of his beer. “So where’s this house? Have ya viewed it yet?” he makes conversation, taking the printouts from Akasha and looking through them a little smile on his face.

He doesn’t say anything but he can picture Y/N and Daisy living there. Can imagine Y/N reading Daisy bedtime stories in what will be her nursery, can see her teaching her to walk in the cosy living room. He can see himself cuddling them both as they watch a movie, cooking dinner for his two best girls on a Sunday evening, helping Y/N to settle the little monster to bed.

It’s perfect.

“Haven’t viewed it yet. Kasha set up a date sometime next week for me if you’re free and wanna come? Still gonna need you to help me and Dad decorate Daisy’s room.” He nods quickly, a grin on his lips and he moves his arm from Kelsey’s shoulder to wrap Y/N up in another safe embrace.

“‘Course. Daniel said he’s put all the furniture we got in tha’ storage unit so I’ll make sure ’m about to help ya move in, an’ all. S’gonna be good, pet. Ya need this, ya deserve it. And I’m gonna be there through it all, by ya side when ya push the bugger out and take ya back home after.”

Her heart is swelling at the closeness and his words, skin warm and soft and she feels happy, hearing him speak so fondly about her little girl, about how active he’s going to be. But then she hears Kelsey’s voice again and her bubble of happiness is popped.

“You’re going to be in the room when she gives birth?” There's a hint of disgust in her voice and Harry hums, arm still thrown around Y/N’s shoulder and his brows are knitted, like he doesn’t see what’s so wrong with it.

“Yeah, ‘m her birthing partner,” he grins happily. It’s clear that he’s excited about it, to get to watch the birth of his goddaughter, share that magical moment of Y/N holding her for the first time.

Kelsey scrunches up her nose. “Isn't that a bit weird? Shouldn't you have the Dad in there with you?” She's directing it at Y/N now and Harry feels overprotective of her. Kelsey knows Daisy’s Dad isn’t in the picture, he made that very clear on the way over so he’s angry that she’s bringing him up.

Y/N shrugs, shaking her head. She isn’t going to give the girl what she wants. Cilla scoffs and speaks up. “Don’t see anything weird about it. Harry’s been in her life since they were only young. He’s going to be Daisy’s godfather so I think it’s quite fitting for him to be there, really. Besides, none of us deals with blood very well.” She tries to make it a little lighthearted but they all know Cilla.

“How did you and Harry meet, anyway?” Cilla changes the topic and Y/N’s ears perk up as she twists her neck to get a look at Harry. She’s yet to know how they met, too. Kelsey clears her throat, clearly understanding that she not going to get a reaction out of them. “Kelsey’s a model at Gucci, met her in one of the shops when I was getting fitted for a new suit.”

Y/N’s phone begins to ring and she’s thankful for the lucky escape. Her nerves are through the roof, thinks this is the all about the job but when she sees the contact, she breathes again.

All eyes are on her, hopeful, and Harry looks so proud and ready to tackle her in a hug. “You got this,” he encourages and she barks out a laugh, shaking her head and showing her the screen.

“S’just your Mum, said she was gonna FaceTime me yesterday, she wants to see the bump.”

\-----

She’s passed her due date and the world knows she’s pregnant. She’s been on the phone to Harry for the past hour, sobs ripping through her throat and he’s stuck in the studio fixing a final track before he can come to her. She told him not to worry, that just hearing his voice is enough but he wants to hold her.

Neither of them knows what happened but pictures of the night of the break-in are surfacing around the internet -- ones of Y/N sobbing into Harry’s chest, others of him holding her belly and looking distraught. Neither of them understands where they’ve come from or why they’ve waited two months to release them but harry has assured her that his team is working on it.

“Everything‘s just getting to me, H. I hurt all the time and I keep getting stupid Braxton Hicks,” she whines over her phone, smoothing over her swollen stomach that’s stretching still with scars to prove.

“I love you, Princess, I really do. But Mummy needs you to come out now.” She directs her attention to her daughter and Harry lets his bottom lip pout out softly. He can’t imagine how hard it is for her, how hard she’s struggling.

He’s been stopping by almost every day, bringing her snacks and movies and blankets and candles. He sat and watched a documentary with her while he massaged her swollen feet and ankles as she stuffed her face with the cookies he got from the bakery.

He’s braided her hair after her bath and had to help her out of it the other day when she couldn’t sit forward enough to get up. She made him close his eyes and hold her wrists when he did it. Told him that he has a girlfriend now so he can’t be seeing her naked, even if he would look respectfully.

She didn’t tell him it’s actually because she feels disgusting in her own skin recently. “Mummy really needs a break, darling. I’m too eager to meet you, Daisy.” Harry can feel his heart swelling at her words, wants nothing more than to be with her to talk to her belly too.

She starts to kick a little, twisting and rolling and pressing on Y/N’s bladder a little. She shifts with a wince and the overwhelming urge to pee is quickly fading and she can feel her sheets dampen beneath her.

She sits up with wide eyes and a stammering heart. She doesn’t know what’s just happened. Did she just pee herself or did her waters just break? “Harry…” she breathes out shakily, hands trembling as she stands up on weak legs and he hums, not picking up on her distressed state.

“H, I think my waters just broke… Mum! Dad! Quick!” She’s sent into a state of panic and frenzy, forgetting all of the calm and soothing words of how to prepare for this when she was at those classes with Harry and his mind has gone blank too.

“Wha’?”

Her parents come rushing to her room, Cilla immediately notices the wet patch on her sheets that she looms over and she reaches for her daughter. “She moved on my bladder and I don’t know if I just peed or if—“ Cilla shakes her head, an excited smile on her face and Y/N doubles over in searing pain, her stomach cramping up as she rubs her back.

“Your water’s broke, love. We need to time your contractions. Daniel, call Harry.” He can hear the hint of panic and excitement behind her otherwise calm voice and he breaks into a sweat at the sound of another muffled cry that tumbles from Y/N’s lips.

“He’s on the phone.” She groans out, phone dropping on the bed and Daniel fetches it, tries telling Harry what he’s already heard, that he doesn’t need to worry but to be on standby.

Harry’s already leaving the studio. Fuck standby, he wants to be with her right now. “I’m gonna be about twenty minutes then I’ll be there, promise.” Daniel tries to reassure him it’s not necessary, that they need to time her contractions to determine when to take her in but Harry isn’t listening.

He can hear her crying for him and it makes him move faster, putting the call on speaker as it connects to his car's Bluetooth and he starts up the engine.

It takes ten minutes to get to her and he sits with her for two hours, rubbing her feet and coaching her through her breathing. He’s freaking out. As much as Cilla has tried to calm both him and Y/N, he can’t stop freaking out.

It’s when the contractions are lasting for almost a minute with barely three minutes break between that they know it’s time and Y/N hasn’t stopped sobbing and crying. Harry carries her to his car, hand on her tummy as he drives to the hospital, still trying to mentally count the breaks and lengths of the contractions.

Y/N’s scared. As much as she’s wanted this time to come, to have her pregnancy over with, she’s scared and she doesn’t think she can be a mother to her child. “Harry, I’m scared,” she whimpers through searing pain, hand on his wrist and she twists his hand so their fingers are intertwined.

His eyes are wet at her confession as he makes a left, nodding his head and he holds her hand tight. “I know, but ya gonna be fine. Ya gonna make such an amazing mother, Y/N.” But she keeps shaking her head and blubbering helplessly, desperately.

“No, I can’t. I can’t do it.” She’s hysterical, holding the bottom swell of her bump and Harry can barely make out what she’s saying but he knows. He knows her and he knows what she’s thinking and right now, he can’t tell her everything he knows she needs to hear, so he settles for something else.

“Fuck, Y/N. You can do this and ya have to. This little girl is gonna grow up so fuckin’ loved and cherished and accepted because you are one of the most incredible people I have ever met. Y’er everything to me and I love you so fuckin’ much. I’m here ‘n I’m with you, but ya gotta believe in yourself, babe. You can do this.”

She nods through tears, crying through gritted teeth and she knows deep down that he’s right. “I can do this. I can do this.” She repeats the mantra as he parks the car, runs around to help her out but she can’t walk -- her feet are too swollen and the pain is too much for her knees to keep her up.

She’s never been good with pain, Harry’s always known this, so he sweeps her back in his arms and carries her through the entrance like she weighs nothing. A nurse notices immediately and rolls a wheelchair over to them, helps Harry settle her in and she grabs his hand in hers; knuckles burning white.

“We called when we left, her contractions are lasting almost a minute and there’s a three-minute gap between each one.” She’s panting when he tells the nurse and as he gets her signed in, another wave of pain shoots through her entire being and she’s begging for Harry to make it stop.

They’re guided down to a private suite, one Harry had paid for without Y/N even knowing. There was no way in hell anyone was going to get pictures of such a personal and private moment to splatter across the internet. He wheels her in, helps her undress and into the gown she’s given and this time, Y/N doesn’t tell him not to look.

Instead, she’s clinging onto him and trying to keep as close to his chest as she can. Everything is a frantic blur to the both of them as she’s laid down on one of the beds, her legs propped open as a midwife walks her through what she’s doing, that she’s checking how dilated she is but neither of them can make sense of it.

She’s clinging onto Harry in agonising pain as he coos her. He feels stuck, doesn’t know what to do. He isn’t sure if he should brush her hair back and tell her it’s okay, or if he should just stand there and let her break his hand. He doesn’t want to smother her but he also doesn’t want to not comfort her.

Y/N is in another state of mind. She’s in pain -- searing and overwhelming pain and all she wants is for her baby girl to be here and for it all to stop. She’s holding his hand and she tries to steady her breathing, can’t make sense of her left from her right.

But she pulls Harry down so he’s on his knees and his face is level with hers. She turns to him with a shaking head, clutching his hand and Harry thinks she’s the most heartbreaking sight he’s ever seen.

“If anything happens to me, you have to be a Dad to Daisy. You have to promise me you’ll always take care of her.”

He sees the fear in her eyes as she blubbers desperately and Harry is shaking his head wildly when Zoe rushes into the delivery suite. He cups her soaked cheek in the palm of his hot hand, trembling as he holds her and he kisses her forehead.

“ **S’okay, babe. It’s all gonna be fine. I’m here and you’re here and nothings gonna happen.** _Nothing_ is going to happen to you. But I will always be a Dad to Daisy, she’s always gonna be like my little girl. Ya gonna be fine, love.”

She doesn’t get the chance to argue back because cries tear through her throat and Zoe is trying to coach her through her contractions. Harry hears everything but he can’t focus, he’s too caught in his head and what she just said to him and he hurts. He never even considered she’d think she might lose her own life during this.

It’s an hour of on and off tears and sobs until she’s given the green light to start pushing. It’s supposed to be a magical moment of sweat and blood and tears but all Y/N can do is sob and want to give up.

She doesn’t feel excited or elated or relieved that her baby is coming. She feels anxious and depressed and terrified because she can’t do this. She can’t be a mother.

“Y/N, I know it hurts but you need to keep pushing, she’s almost here. You need to push.”

Her teeth are clenched, veins popping out of her head and neck and her core feels like it’s on fire, like her body is about to split in two. Her grip on Harry’s hand is abnormally strong, crushing the bone but he doesn’t complain, how can he? He feels mere discomfort compared to her.

She had hoped during birth, she’d be graceful. That sure, she’d break a sweat and shed a tear, but she hoped her hair wouldn’t be a matted mess on her head, that her eyes wouldn’t be stinging and sunken in. She hoped she wouldn’t piss herself but she underestimated child labour more than she thought.

Y/N can’t hear anything, it’s all too loud and too much.

All she can feel is the fire her body is burned by, the tearing sensation of being split in half. All she can hear are muffled praises of encouragement and desperate pleas for her to keep pushing but her body doesn’t feel like it can take much more.

“Baby, a few more big pushes and she’s here.”

She’s shaking her head, hand right on Harry’s as she blubbers hysterically. “I can’t, I can’t!” He’s cooing her, brushing matted hair from her face and kissing her knuckles through his own watery cries.

“Yes, you can. She’s almost here, Daisy is almost here but ya need t’ push, love. Right now.”

She doesn’t know if it’s the pressure on her core or the encouraging words he seethes to get her to hear, but she starts to nod her head with feebly shaking thighs and she pushes, with all of her might.

Zoe’s and Harry’s praises are drowned out by her raw and shattering screams. Her body is on fire, burning and exhausted but she keeps pushing through the pop of relief when Daisy’s head slips out and Zoe manoeuvres her hands to free her shoulders.

The room falls silent when the first cry is heard and suddenly, Y/N doesn’t feel any pain. She’s numb to the searing ache and stabs of her torn heat. She’s completely disassociated from her body as she cranes up with every ounce of energy she can find, to get a look at her angel.

Harry sees her first, as Zoe untangles the umbilical cord from her knee and hands him the scissors. It’s with watery eyes that he snips the cord and Daisy is momentarily whisked to the side to clean up before she’s rested across Y/N’s bare chest.

Her baby is all she can see. Screwed up and bloody, she’s beautiful. Dark tufts of short hair grace her soft head, her lips are pinky and squished as her cheek rests against Y/N’s bare chest. Her quarries of cries have settled and her nimble fingers scrunch as she looks for something to hold onto.

Y/N can’t look away. Her baby is here -- her gorgeous, perfectly beautiful baby girl. “My gorgeous angel.” Y/N’s got tears in her eyes as a shaky hand reaches forward to touch her. Her thumb gently traces the gooeyness of the skin on her cheek but fuck, she’s so perfect and Y/N has never loved anything so much before.

Harry’s no better -- completely besotted with his goddaughter. He’s leaning down to get a look at her, his hand brushing matted hair from Y/N’s sweaty head as he peppers a kiss to her forehead and reaches for Daisy's hand. She wraps her nimble fingers around his thumb; tight grip in her gentle hold.

“Would you like a picture?” Zoe interrupts softly after a few moments of allowing them to bask in Daisy’s birth. They both nod, Harry digging in his pockets for his phone and he stands back to get a photo of the mother and daughter together, vision blurry through teary eyes and his heart only melts when Y/N stares at him.

“Can you get one of all of us?” He knows her question is directed at Zoe and she takes the phone from him as he tugs the chair back to her bed and leans close. Zoe gets three pictures. The first is the both of them adoring baby Daisy, wet smiles on their faces and eyes full of love. The second is the two of them gleaming tiredly at the camera, Daisy snuggled on Y/N’s chest with a small blanket covering her.

And the third, well, it’s a total accident. Zoe’s about to hand Harry his phone back when he leans down to kiss Y/N’s forehead. It’s when he pulls away and they’re gazing at each other with such raw emotion that their lips meet in something so perfect that Zoe snaps the picture.

\-----

Y/N aches.

Her whole body is hurting and aching and she can’t quite describe the feeling of not carrying around a bump anymore. She’s in a pair of Harry’s sweats and one of his band tees, hair crafted into two french braids as Akasha ties them off.

Her eyes are on her mother, watching as she ogles and sobs silently over her granddaughter. Daniel stands behind Cilla, trying to hide his watering eyes as he coos down at Daisy. Since she and Harry walked in the door three hours ago, she hasn’t held her baby for more than five minutes.

She’s sitting on the floor, legs outstretched as Akasha combs stray hairs back into her braids and Harry’s massaging some lotion into Y/N’s swollen calves and ankles. Her eyes are fluttering and all she wants is to sleep.

Daisy is twelve hours old and a healthy 7.3lb and the light of her entire family lives. She’s gorgeous -- soft skin and cute, chubby cheeks. She’s Y/N’s daughter with her father's hair. 

“God, she’s beautiful, Y/N. I’m so proud of you.” Cilla whimpers softly, rocking Daisy gently in her arms as she starts to fuss. Y/N’s got a sleepy smile on her lips as she watches the interaction before she gets a bit too fussy and Cilla relents, standing to hand her over.

Y/N’s got her arms out ready as she takes Daisy into them. She doesn’t let it show that she’s shitting herself -- that she’s second-guessing the way she’s holding her, like she’s doubting if she’s supporting her head properly. Y/N knows she is, but this is all so new and so scary that she can’t help but feel uncertain.

“Think she’s getting a bit hungry. I’m gonna take her in my room and feed her.”

They watch as she excuses herself; waddling off to her bedroom and closing the door behind her. It’s a struggle to get Daisy to latch onto her nipple, even with following Zoe’s instructions to gently pinch her breast to angle it better in her mouth.

After nearly ten minutes of trying, she starts to give up and tears of frustration are quick to prick at her eyes. She can’t do this -- be a mother. She can’t even get her daughter to feed, how is she supposed to raise her? How is she supposed to care for her and protect her? She feels utterly hopeless and useless.

And then there’s a knock on her door and Harry is letting himself in. Her chest is covered by her shirt as she stares at him with watering eyes and he thinks he gets the hint. He sits beside her, stroking her back and Daisy’s head in an attempt to coo his favourite girls. And it works after a few minutes, because she latches onto Y/N’s nipple and feeds.

Y/N lets out subtle winces of discomfort at the intrusive feeling but soon settles into it. It’s magical for Harry to witness -- to see his bestfriend mould into this new role she’s been given. Harry thinks parenthood looks good on her already.

She reaches for his hand and intertwines their fingers, a grateful smile on her lips as Harry hums the gentle rhythm of Sweet Creature and she rests her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she sniffles out shakily.

Out of all the excitement and thrill of the release of his new album and the incredible feedback it’s received, this is by far so much better. The birth of his goddaughter will forever trump the feeling of releasing a number one album.

He leans down to kiss the top of her head. “You’re amazing, y’know tha’? So fuckin’ incredible, bringing such a beautiful soul into the world. And y’er so fuckin’ stong, too. You’ve got this, babe. And ‘m gonna be here every step of the way. Promise.”

She drinks his words in as her eyes flutter closed and she lets herself bask in the false reality of what they could be right now. Of Daisy being his and him being Y/N’s.

\-----

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to be moving in so soon?” Cilla pipes up over her steaming cup of coffee and Y/N shrugs. She’s cradling Daisy in her arms slowly, a radiant smile on her lips.

It’s been three weeks since her birth and Y/N thinks she’s starting to get the hang of this parenthood stuff. Delusional, she knows, but she’s enjoying thinking she’s got this shit down. Of course, she’s had control over everything because of her family's help, but she needs to learn to do this alone and she wants her privacy back.

“Maybe it is a _bit_ early but I can’t rely on you guys forever. I know she’s only three weeks old, but I need to do this. Plus, I’m close to Harry’s house and I need my own space.”

She knows it’s selfish but Cilla knows more that she’s right, and that she needs this. Daisy needs this. She nods her head as she places her cup of coffee back on the table, trying to let herself adjust to the idea of them moving out.

If she’s being honest, she’s going to miss disruptive nights where she helps Y/N wean Daisy back to sleep. She’s going to miss changing her nappies and giving her cool baths. She’s going to miss getting her dressed and burping her until she throws up down her back. She’s going to miss the evening snuggles with her granddaughter. Even though Y/N’s new home is only a twenty-minute drive away, it’s not as close as down the hall.

“Harry’s gonna pick me up in about an hour to go to the storage unit and start bringing stuff back to the new house. Was wondering if you wouldn’t mind watching Daisy for a few hours?” There’s no argument in the matter and Cilla takes her without a word, a smile too wide on her lips.

It’s not long before she’s peppering hundreds of kisses on Daisy’s head before she leaves with the anxiety sitting heavy in her stomach. She hasn’t been away from Daisy for longer than a few hours sleeping and even then, she’s in her bassinet right beside her. There’s uneasy guilt that’s weighing her down and she has to stop herself from overthinking every impossible situation.

She’s safe and she’s with Cilla.

Harry’s quiet in the car, doesn’t make much conversation and the air between them feels awkward -- a little tense and palpable. Y/N doesn’t know what’s going on. She saw him just two days ago when he stopped by with lunch and flowers, so she’s more than a little confused. Plus, this was his idea, to start moving her in sooner so she’d be closer to him.

She clears her throat. “What’s wrong? You’re acting weird.” She’s blunt and to the point and Harry swallows thickly at her tone. “Nothing’s wrong. ‘M fine, love.” He forces on a smile as he shoots a look to her over his shoulder, focusing his gaze back on the road.

Y/N settles back in her seat, gnawing on her inner cheek but she doesn’t push further. Instead, she lets herself swim in the drowning anxiety as it starts to rise to her shoulders. She doesn’t know why she’s getting so touchy and so emotional lately. Isn’t all that supposed to stop _after_ you have the baby?

When they arrive outside the townhouse, Y/N’s got a frown set in her brow. The front door has got a pink bow wrapped around it and a bouquet of balloons and flowers are perched on her small porch.

She’s clambering out of Harry’s Rover when he parks it and he follows her up the steps. The door is open as she pushes inside, Harry right behind her and the second she opens the living room door, confetti is popping in her face and faces are jumping out of the furniture.

“Surprise!”

Her eyes are wide as she blinks in shock. Everyone is there. Her family, Harry’s family, a few friends from work and the tears are pooling in her eyes. She’s shocked to see her mother cradling Daisy in her arms and she can’t wrap her head around how they got to the house before she and Harry did.

She feels the gentle weight of hands on her shoulder before a pair of soft lips press a kiss to her cheek. “Maybe I was acting a bit weird.” He teases, kissing her temple and branching away from her to take Daisy from Cilla’s arms and coddle her close to his chest.

Gemma and Anne are quick to coo over the little angel as Y/N makes her rounds to greet everyone, kindly declining every drink of alcohol she’s offered until she reaches Harry and his family.

“Oh, Y/N… she’s bloody perfect!” She’s got a proud smile on her lips at Anne’s words and she can’t help but beam as Gemma pulls her in for a crushing hug.

Y/N’s too caught up in the sight of Harry coddling her little girl to his chest to realise her surroundings. She stopped by at the house a week ago when the walls were bare and furniture was yet to be purchased. Now she stands in the middle of her fully decorated living room and it doesn’t click until Anne is taking Daisy from Harry’s arms and sitting on the sofa with her.

Her brows furrow and she squints at Harry, pinching his arm softly and pulling him out of the little party. He’s got a grin on his lips, one that suggests his ego is growing from how happy she looks at his plans and she smacks his arm to wipe the smirk off his face.

“I told you I wanted to get all the furniture, H!”

He pouts, eyes soft. “I know, and ya did -- ya chose it all. I jus ’paid for it. Then y’er Dad helped me decorate it all for ya.” Her eyes are starting to water again and her heart feels like it’s about to explode as it sinks to the pit of her stomach.

“Harry…” she trails off, trying to find the right words to chastise him with. He shushes her, hands on her shoulders as he throws his head toward the staircase. “D’ya wanna go and see y’er bedrooms?” He gleams happily but he notices the apprehension on her face as she tries to crane her neck to look back for Daisy.

He shakes his head and ushers her to the stairs. “She’s fine, babe. She’s wi’ Mum and Gemma. Jus’ come on for a minute.” She follows him up with a lump in her throat and when she gets to the top of the stairs is when she notices the colour paint on the walls that she chose out a while ago.

Her heart grows bigger and sinks lower.

He shows her to her bedroom first and it’s perfect. A gorgeous oak, queen bed with all matching furniture and he’s left a bunch of boxes in her open closet, ready for her to hang her clothes and put her things away respectably.

She’s sniffling when she sees a photo on her nightstand — one of the three of them just after she’d given birth. She’s ready to cry but Harry has more to show her. He takes her next door to Daisy’s nursery and it’s about then that she loses her inhibitions.

The walls are painted a soft yellow, small blooms of daisies hand painted from the ground and she could recognise her father's handiwork from anywhere. The furniture is all white, and above her crib hangs a mobile of daisies and sunflowers, crafted from wood. Her eyes take over the dresser and sitting above it, besides a stuffed monkey, is a photo of the two of them — of Y/N gazing down on her baby girl and brushing those gorgeous brown tufts of hair across her head.

Harry watches her take it in from the door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He pretends his heart doesn’t hammer as hard as it does — pretends he doesn’t want to kiss her softly before showing Daisy her new room. He pretends he doesn’t feel any of that, because he can’t. It’s wrong.

“Harry…” she breathes.

Y/N spins around to him, tears slipping down her rosy cheeks and she crashes into his chest, arms right around him. He lets her hold him tight, because he holds her with just as much desperation and tenderness as she does. He doesn’t let go because he needs this, needs to feel her close like she needs him.

He didn’t do this because he wanted to help her out. He did it because he wants her to understand that no matter what, he will _always_ take care of them both. That even if he’s supposed to be writing an album or going to dinner with his girlfriend, he will always choose them.

But Y/N doesn’t see it that way. Instead, she sees his act of kindness and something to help her out. She sees this as a way for him to get her settled, to make her feel better for a while. Which is nice, of course. But she doesn’t want to feel better for a while, she wants to feel better for good and she wants to feel better with him lying beside her, with him feeding Daisy with her, with him there every step of the way.

Because even though he’s promised he will be, she knows he won’t.

\-----

It was a long shot, but she knew he was the best bet. One, he’s closest, and two, he’s likely to panic as much as she is. She tried her Mum half an hour ago but the call went straight to voicemail. Not that she expected anything less. It is three in the morning.

But Harry groggily picked up on the second ring and promised to run to the 24-hour pharmacy just a few minutes away before coming over.

It’s nothing serious, so the pharmacist told them but Y/N is a first-time mother living alone and she’s going to overreact to everything and anything that happens. Really, Daisy’s just got the sniffles with a bit of a temperature but that isn’t stopping her from sitting beside her cot until Harry gets to her place.

She doesn’t know how to react to such a situation. She expected Daisy to be screaming the townhouse down, red in the face as she thrashes in her mother’s arm. But Daisy is peaceful as she lays on her back and kicks her legs up, arms reaching above her as she makes grabby hands for the mobile that hangs over the crib.

She knows in theory, it’s likely nothing to worry about at all if she’s completely content with her own company as she gurgles away but Y/N can’t help herself. She’s watching her baby wiggle on her back through the white wooden bars of her crib.

Her hair has grown, lightened out to longer brown tufts that curl softly at the ends. She’s still got the same blue eyes she was born with but they’ve grown brighter and her lashes darker. Y/N falls more and more in love with her whenever she looks at her.

Daisy is dressed in a dark green baby grow, her name stitched in white across the middle of her chest. She’s too focused on the little details of her child that she doesn’t hear her front door open and close, and she doesn’t hear heavy footsteps make their way upstairs into Daisy’s room until she sees Harry from the corner of her eye, leaning against the doorframe.

His hair is dishevelled, eyes dropping — clear signs that he’s not been awake too long and Y/N notices a heavy stubble that’s growing across his jaw and chin. She appreciates the sight of him dressed in a pair of sweats and an old Rolling Stones shirt that’s partially hidden beneath his brown Gucci coat, and he’s got a little plastic carrier bag in his hand.

“Hey,” Y/N greets him softly.

She doesn’t bother standing from her slouched position on the floor, so Harry kicks off his shoes by Daisy’s bedroom door and joins her by her crib. He settles down, long legs struggling to cross without kicking anything and he looks extra cuddling under the dim light to Y/N.

He places the plastic bag in the small space between them and ruffles through it. He pulls out the medicine, the one that the pharmacist recommended based on Daisy’s age and symptoms, a little green dinosaur teddy bear and a pint-sized tub of cookie dough ice cream that has Y/N’s eyes widening and her mouth watering.

She snatches it from his hand playfully, blowing him a kiss as she sets it down beside her. While Y/N gets Daisy’s medicine ready for her, Harry reaches into the crib for the babe. Daisy’s got her hands up, soft squeals of excitement at the sight of the familiar man and Harry can’t help the grin that breaks out upon his lips at the sight and sound of it.

“Hi, baby.” He puckers his lips extra so his scratchy beard doesn’t irritate her perfect skin and she smacks her hands across his cheeks in greeting, leaning forward with wet, parted lips as she gummily gnaws on the tip of his nose.

“Missed ya too, pet.” He grins, craning his head back away from her as he supports her whole body to his chest. Harry lets her nuzzle her face into his neck, never gets over how responsive she is to his touch -- how at ease she always seems when in his presence. He also never gets over how unbelievably adorable she is.

Y/N watches with a fond yet aching heart and she pulls enough medicine into a syringe before coaxing it to Daisy’s lips. She takes the dose with praise and snuggles back into Harry’s hold. Y/N reaches to rest the back of her palm against her forehead and Y/N thinks it seems a little cooler but she lets Harry coddle her for as long as he pleases.

He smiles down at her. “D’ya wan’ me t ’settle her if ya go and get some spoons for the ice cream?” he proposes, brows raised in a convincing kind of way and Y/N looks to her baby girl, like she’s having an inner battle as to whether or not she wants to leave her with harry or not -- which is ridiculous because she knows she’s always going to be safe with him.

So she forces herself to nod and kisses Daisy’s temple before she leaves her nursery; taking the ice cream with her. Harry waits until he hears her potter about in the kitchen downstairs before he starts to gently rock the three-month-old in his arms. He hums a little tune under his breath in a breathy tone as he strokes her back in a soothing pace.

He wants to revel in the moment he’s having with his goddaughter -- he wants to cherish it because, with the argument he had with Kelsey just hours ago, he worries something will keep him from seeing his baby and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t plan on telling Y/N that they argued -- that they argued about how he only ever seems to think about Y/N and Daisy -- and he doesn’t plan on telling her that he actually hasn’t slept at all because of it.

It’s merely a few moments more of the gentle rocking before he lowers Daisy down in bed and sets the little dinosaur down beside her. His heart bursts in his chest as she rolls a little and lets fingers latch around the dinosaur’s tail and he’s suddenly got the overwhelming urge to thank Y/N for giving him a goddaughter so fucking pure and sweet.

He meets her downstairs after he switches off the light and puts on her night lamp. His shoes are in his hand as he throws them by the front door and shrugs his coat off to hang it on the new rack Y/N recently purchased.

She’s waiting for him in the living room, tub of ice cream on the coffee table with two metal spoons stabbed into it and beside it, on two grey coasters, sit two large mugs of hot chocolate. Y/N’s cuddled under a blanket with some old reruns of Friends on the telly and Harry makes himself comfortable beside her.

She coddles into his side, head on his shoulder and Harry kisses the top of her head before letting his cheek rest atop it. One of her hands are thrown over his middle and one of his is thrown behind her and cross her shoulder -- gently rubbing the soft skin of her arm.

Neither of them says anything as they sip their hot beverages and nibble on the sweet treat; they both think they need to bask in the silence of one another’s company and sometime within the hour, upon the most domestic of tasks, they slip into a peaceful state of slumber.

Maybe they both somehow know it’ll be their last moment together for a while.

\-----

“Put the kettle on. I’m on m’ way round.”

The phone is tucked between her cheek and her ear, head cranked to the side to keep it in place as he speaks through the line. She hasn’t seen him in almost three months -- only once or twice since the night Daisy had a fever -- and though they’ve spoken most days on the phone, hearing him say he’s on his way over suddenly has her stomach churning.

She’s wiggling the iron across a cotton t-shirt, pressing the steam button on a particularly creased spot and the ironing board creaks under the harsh movement. She needs to get a new one. She’s also trying to distract her mind with anything other than the fact that for three months she’s been trying to come to terms with his sudden unexplained absence that she’s certain actually has everything to do with Kelsey, but she won’t let him know she thinks that.

“Who says I’m home?” She replies dryly, tongue peeking at the corner of her lips. She hears him chuckle and kiss his teeth. “Where else would ya be?” he quips back and she fights the urge to scoff and roll her eyes.

It’s silent for a moment. “I can hear ya ironing. I’m round the corner, be two minutes. Leave the door open fo’ me.” When the call ends, the phone is still stuffed between her ear and shoulder and she’s switching off the iron and throwing the warm T-shirt over her body.

It’s 10 am and Y/N’s been graced with the rare occurrence of a lay-in. She wasn’t awoken with screams until 8:30 and she’s more than a little behind in her housework.

Folding down the ironing board, Y/N tucks it back away in the cupboard in the stairs and she can hear the front door opening from across the living room. There are feet shuffling against the welcome mat and she hears a coo before she sees the face.

“Good morning t’ my favourite little Princess,” Harry greets softly, pulling up his loose fitted pants as he crouches down to the baby bouncer.

Daisy blubbers out a wet giggle at the sight of Harry before her. She reaches for him in her little walker, chubby hands hitting at his stubbly cheeks and he kisses her tiny wrists. He reaches over to ruffle the thick brown locks on the 7-month-olds soft head.

She squeals delightfully under his touch, a sweet noise that has Harry’s heart fluttering. He leans in to press a pert kiss to her forehead, careful not to let his prickly stubble touch her unblemished skin as he rises back to his feet.

Y/N watches the interaction with a fond smile as he turns to her with a tired smile. It’s been too long since they’ve all been together. Harry’s bringing her in for a warm embrace, kissing lovingly at her temple as she snuggles into his warmth. “Morning, babe,” she hums into his chest.

He’s still got that same, cinnamon and mint scent about him and Y/N’s thankful that hasn’t changed. Physically, he looks the same. He’s a little thinner than she last saw him, and not in the way he usually thins out when he frequents the gym. This is the type of thin he gets when he’s stressed or going through a rough patch and her heart breaks -- thinks she’s got an idea as to what’s going on.

“Mornin’, love.” Harry rubs her back soothingly, allowing her touch and vanilla and cinnamon scent to ground him a little. He clings onto her presence like an anchor, always has. Hates himself for not seeing her for the past twelve weeks. He pulls away with a gleaming smile but Y/N isn’t stupid, she sees right through it.

His brows pinch at the silence of the room, can only hear Noddy playing from the TV, one of Daisy’s new favourites. “Though’ I said t’ put the kettle on?” he asks, brow raised teasingly and Y/N swats his side playfully.

“You never drink your brew anyway, it’s just a waste.” Harry watches her get straight back to her cleaning; folding Daisy’s little onesies and tops and his heart swoons at just how much bigger they are than the last time he saw her. The guilt really starts to eat at him.

There’s a flicker of silence as he watches his best friend in the most mundane activity before she sets a pair of leggings on the table and turns to him with her hands on her hips, arch of her brow raised and Harry thinks she’s got the Mum Look down to a T.

Harry raises a brow questioningly, like he’s trying to figure out what he’s done to warrant the scolding expression. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on? Why you suddenly show up after three months of not being around? ‘Cause if not, you can help me fold the washing.” His shoulders sag with a heavy sigh and his eyes are squeezed shut. He can never get away with keeping anything from her and he doesn't want to. He feels like complete shit for the way he handled things.

He turns his back to Y/N and makes for her daughter instead. Daisy is beaming up at him, bouncing her little body in her walker as her sock-clad feet push against the oak floors. She’s got her hands in the air as Harry outstretches his arms, eager to be in his hold.

Y/N’s always joked that Daisy loves him more than she does her mother and Harry has always assured her it's just the charm he has with the ladies. She watches him hoist her baby in his arms, listening to the squeals of delight at the familiar face and she snuggles her head in the crook of his neck.

While the sight has always been one to warm Y/N’s heart, today it does nothing but sting. It’s forcing her to remember that Daisy only has that constant male role in her life because of Harry, that she lacks a fatherly bond and it makes her sick and angry all over again. And even then, he disappeared for three months, only calling and texting every few days.

She has to bite back the urge to vomit and plasters a soft smile on her face when Harry coos at her Princess and rubs her back soothingly, another arm looped under her bum to keep her in his arms. Harry turns back to her as he kisses Daisy’s temple.

Harry shrugs and Y/N thinks she might know what’s going on. She watches him silently for a moment, doesn’t miss the way his eyes start to well, how he sucks his bottom lip in his mouth to stop it from quivering. Her shoulder slump. “Oh, Harry…” She approaches him quickly, arms outstretched as she cuddles into him. His arm wraps around her, keeping both Y/L/N’s close and with a sniffle, he blinks back tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again against his shirt, arms squeezing around his middle and she wants to take all the pain away — wants to bear it all for him, let it sit heavy on _her_ shoulders instead.

She pulls away to look up at him, hand reaching for his face and she cups his jaw in her palm, stroking her thumb across his cheek soothingly. Her heart breaks for him, breaks for the heartache he’s always put though. Harry smiles under her touch and keeps his hold tight on Daisy as he cranes his head to kiss Y/N’s wrist.

They both knew things were rocky between Harry and Kelsey, that things hadn’t been _good_ in a while, it’s been no secret. But seeing Harry close to breaking down after the ending of almost a year-long relationship is heart-aching.

“S in the past now, innit. Got two o’ my best girls here, s’all I need.” He tries to lighten the mood with a smile but Y/N wants nothing more than to coddle him for years and never let him go. Maybe it’s her maternal instincts — she’s been awfully protective over her best friend since she fell pregnant with Daisy and she supposes that’s why she’s so smitten with him.

“You know we love you, more than anything.” She promises and Harry’s thankful smile graces his lips. He nods his head, bouncing Daisy softly in his arms and she lets out a blubbery giggle, clapping her hands and wiggling a dance in his hold. Harry’s smile is contagious when he feels her move and Y/N can’t help but watch with complete adoration.

“Don’t we, Daisy? We love Harry loads and loads, ain’t that right.” The baby voice the three have adapted to makes an appearance and Harry’s heart bursts at the interaction between her and her daughter.

He watches Daisy reach for her, watches the way Y/N holds her close and coos and comforts her when she starts to get aggy. He watches the bright flickers of pride and love wash through her eyes and he’s full of complete and utter happiness for his best friend.

He helped her through her entire pregnancy, stood in the delivery room with her, holding her hand when she pushed for hours, when she sobbed and begged for the pain to be over. He helped take her home and get her settled, cancelled interviews and radio shows for three weeks to help her care for Daisy.

Harry won’t tell Y/N the real reason he and Kelsey split. He won’t burden her with the guilt of knowing it was because of her and Daisy. He’ll never admit that Kelsey made him choose. Them or her. He’ll never tell her that he chose them and will _always_ choose them. He’ll never abandon them as Daisy's father did.

He swallows back the lump in his throat and shoves his hands in his pockets. He sways on the balls of his feet, nibbling on his lower lip. “How about I take m’ two favourite girls out for lunch then?”

\-----

“Daisy, you need to eat, bubby. Come on.”

They’ve been sitting in the little cafe for over an hour and Daisy hasn’t even eaten a spoonful of her mushed up food. She’s shaking her head, moving away in the high chair from the spoon and making desperate grabby hands for Y/N’s chest instead.

Harry’s watched her the entire time, an amused glimmer on his face as the infant struggles and presses her lips closed whenever Y/N brings the spoon to her mouth. She’s been giving him side-eye evils after every little laugh and Daisy seems to think it’s just as funny until the spoon is by her mouth again.

“Baby, come on. Just a little bit, please.” Y/N’s feeling a little desperate now. She knows exactly what Daisy wants and while she’d give it to her if they were home, they’re in a public restaurant and Y/N forgot to grab her bottle when they left.

Daisy struggles again and Y/N drops the spoon, rubbing her temples as she tries not to get too aggravated by her daughter's stubbornness. Harry shuffles his chair closer to the little girl and picks up the spoon, offering it to the girl with aeroplane noises and she opens up and takes the spoonful straight away.

Y/N gawks, jaw slack and eyes heavy. Harry howls out a soft laugh and she shakes her head, eyeing up her besotted girl. She always seems to listen to Harry, always does whatever he tries. But Harry goes to feed her another spoonful of the mushy goop and she turns it away, dribbling out the previous mouthful and this time, Y/N’s the one to snicker.

“She wants milk,” he notes when she starts making grabby hands for Y/N again and she sighs. “I forgot her bottle,” she sighs in admittance and Harry quirks a brow, shoving the spoon back in the bowl of mashed vegetable soup.

“Aren’t ya still breastfeeding, though? Jus’ do it tha’ way,” he shrugs, unphased about the idea of her waking her tit out. Though she supposes he’s seen her chest enough times with breastfeeding in the past that it wouldn’t be much different for him to see her do it in public, but she’s never done that before.

Y/N lets heat sit heavy on her cheeks and she shifts in her seat as she picks Daisy from her highchair and settles her in her lap. “We’re in public, H. I can’t just flop out a tit and breastfeed her,” she speaks her fears and Harry can’t help the frown that’s plastered on his face.

Throughout her pregnancy, Y/N always made it clear that she wouldn’t allow others to shame her if she ever had to breastfeed in public. She wouldn’t let strangers tell her it was disgusting and inappropriate because her child’s needs are more important. Harry wonders if now she’s presented with the opportunity, she’s scared of actually going through with it.

He knows she’s struggled a lot with her self worth and such since the late stages of her pregnancy, that it’s been hard for her to walk the streets alone with Daisy, worried someone will attack her for pushing the buggy wrong, or for not making herself more presentable when she’s out, because _just because you’ve had a child, doesn’t mean you should let yourself go._

But Y/N won’t admit to that.

“Course ya can. She’s hungry and if anyone wants to try an’ say anything, I really don’t mind giving ‘em a piece of my mind.”

Ultimately, he is right, but she’s still shaking when she nods her head and settles Daisy across her arms. Y/N’s only wearing a white T-shirt so Harry shrugs off his zipped hoodie and stands from his seat. He rounds the table to wrap it across her shoulders and he holds it over her chest when Y/N gets comfortable and lifts her shirt and bra enough to allow Daisy to latch onto her nipple.

She seethes through gritted teeth under the first harsh suck and Harry helps cover herself and Daisy. “This is gonna do wonders for your image, being papped with a mystery girl with her tit out in a cafe,” she snorts as he steps back to sit beside her.

He’s moved his chair to sit right next to her at the table, arm across the back of her chair and Daisy’s feet rest on the edge of his thigh. He twists his body just enough to block a partially exposed part of Y/N’s chest so passersby are unable to see the underswell of her breast and he grins sarcastically.

“The mystery girl tha’ everyone knows has been m’ best mate for about ten years.” He corrects, eyes rolled and Y/N stifles a nervous laugh. Harry squeezes her shoulder, leaning in to brush his lips to her ear. “Stop worrying, ya fine. I’m here.”

She nods and lets off a breath of relief, leaning into his hold so her head rests on his shoulder. Harry brushes her hair from her face, kisses the top of her head and keeps her close. They can both feel eyes on them and he knows Y/N’s starting to feel uncomfortable under their judgemental gazes. Harry hopes no one will take pictures if they recognise him. He doesn’t care that he's being seen with his best friend breastfeeding her baby. What he does care about is people plastering images of it over social media and no doubt slamming her for feeding her child.

“As uncomfy as I feel, it’s also kinda liberating. Like yeah, my tits out and my baby’s feeding from it. And what?” She mutters to him through a nervous smile and he feels his heart burst with pride. He kisses her temple again. “It’s ‘cause you're a badass Mum.”

She giggles at his claim, shaking her head as she peeks into the hoodie to make sure Daisy is okay. She’s happy as can be, eyes drooping and suckling softly. Y/N brushes her fingers through her sparse dark hair as her eyes flutter closed while Harry strokes Y/N’s shoulder soothingly, trying to rid her nerves.

They’re both admiring the little bubba when a shadow looms over the three and a woman stands tall with her own young child on her hip, toying with a teething ring. Y/N sucks in an audible breath, heart stammering but Harry doesn’t move. “I just wanna say, you’ve got balls of steel to do that in here and I admire you for it.”

Both their shoulders sag in relief and Y/N smiles appreciatively, nodding as Harry squeezes her arm. “Thank you,” she manages to choke out and the woman smiles back just as kindly. Y/N wonders why everyone can’t be as kind as her. “Anyway, enjoy your lunch. You have a very beautiful family.” She compliments.

Y/N’s eyes widen as the woman begins to walk off. “Oh… No, we’re--”

“Thank you!” Harry calls after her, cutting Y/N off and settling further into his seat. She stares at him with parted lips and gently furrowed brows. “You need to stop doing that,” she mutters under her breath, taking a sip of her water and he frowns, lips pouted slightly.

“Stop doin’ wha’?” She sets her glass down and gives him a look, rocking Daisy in her arms. “ _That_. Letting people think we’re a family. Someone’s gonna overhear and you know people already speculate that you’re Daisy’s Dad. I don’t need the harassment and you don’t need the bother.”

He gnaws on his inner cheek, quiet. He didn’t realise what he was doing was upsetting her so much. It’s not the first time he’s done it, and he doesn’t know why. Even when he was seeing Kelsey, he always allowed strangers to think he and Y/N were together. Maybe it’s because he craves a family of his own, or maybe it’s because he thinks of Daisy as his little girl, too.

He nods, though. He understands where she’s coming from. “Okay, y’er right. Won’t do it anymore, love.”

Later that night, Daisy is sleepless and sobbing for hours, and Y/N doesn’t know what to do. In the seven months of her life, Daisy has never spent a night in such tears and Y/N is stressed. She’s tried coddling her, rocking back and forth and reading her lullabies. Y/N tried feeding her, burping her, changing her. She’s tried singing, though she can understand why that would make her cry harder, and now she’s completely lost.

She doesn’t have a temperature and Y/N’s felt around her gums and can’t feel any trace of little teeth just yet. “Come on, baby. You’re okay, it’s okay.” She’s close to tears herself and she’s losing her grip on her sanity. It’s 3 am and she’s yet to have a wink of sleep. She’s exhausted and she needs a break.

“Should we try some music? Huh? Let’s try some music, sweetheart.” Y/N carries her from her nursery and into her bedroom, sitting on her bed and keeping Daisy close. She opens up her Spotify and shuffles her playlist, a smile tugging on her lips at Harry’s name that plasters on her screen. The gentle guitar riff of his cover of Girl Crush starts to play and Daisy’s cries immediately soothe.

Her ears are straining at the unfamiliar sound and as she’s about to start fussing again, Harry’s tender voice meets her ears and the look of discomfort on her face morphs into one of serene fatigue and her lashes begin to flutter softly.

Y/N’s bottom lip starts to quiver as she gently rocks her baby. Tears are welling in her eyes, a few stray slipping down her clammy cheeks and she doesn't know why. Maybe because her daughter has finally stopped crying and she’s so fucking burnt out. Or maybe because it hurts to know the effect her best friend’s voice has on her daughter. That the sound of Harry’s voice is enough to immediately soothe her little angel and she’ll never experience that with her real father.

Maybe it’s because Y/N’s reminded why she’s so fucking in love with him and it kills to remember how different their lives are, that he will never love her the way she loves him and she has to be okay with that. Maybe it’s because she watches him with Daisy and all she can think is what he’d be like if he lived with them, if he coddled her back to sleep at 2 am, if he fed her and bathed her, if he taught her to walk and to talk.

Maybe it’s because Y/N knows it’ll never happen.

\-----

_“Ya have a_ **_wha’_ ** _?”_

_His heart is sinking while hers is skipping. He doesn’t think he just heard her right -- there’s no way -- but she doesn’t make any effort to correct what he thinks he misheard so he’s stuck with the bile taste that sits heavy on his tongue._

_“I have a date.”_

_There it is. So he didn’t mishear her. She has a date._ **_A date_ ** _. Harry blinks, lips parted as he swallows down the lump in his throat. They’re all sitting on the floor in Harry’s living room, Daisy crawling between the two but Harry can’t take his eyes off his best friend._

_Y/N hasn’t even mentioned another man since she fell pregnant with Daisy almost two years ago and now she has a date? How does she have a date? Who is he? Where did she meet him? How does she know him? Does he know about Daisy? Has he met Daisy?_

_Harry’s mind shouldn’t be spinning with the overwhelming amount of questions, but it is. He doesn't have the right to be hurt or upset by her words, but he is. His heart fucking hurts and he doesn’t know why. It’s stupid of him to think she’d never explore a love life again, just because she’s a mother now. It’s stupid of him to get so upset and distraught by it._

_She nods. “I have a date. His name’s Charlie. He’s from work but he works in the website department. He asked me out the other day for dinner and I said yes.” She shrugs with burning cheeks and a glimmer of giddy excitement in her eyes._

_She’s excited and nervous but she needs to get herself back out there. Y/N needs to stop letting herself think she and Harry are going to happen. She needs to wake up and put herself first just once and see where it takes her._

_Harry nods, like he’s trying to process her words. He forces a grin on his lips and Y/N’s none the wiser, thinks it’s pretty genuine. Or maybe she knows it isn’t but it’ll hurt her too much to think he’s disappointed by her news. She doesn’t need her heart to be played with any more than she’s already let it be._

_“Wow, that’s exciting! When is it? Where are going, has he told ya?” He busies himself by taking a sip of his water and Daisy rolls on her back, pulling her socks off her feet and waving them around in the air. He reaches to tickle her little belly._

_Y/N nods. “Some Italian restaurant, you know how much I love pasta! It’s uh on Saturday, actually, and I know you’ve got a few days off from interviews and stuff and the studio… so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind watching Daisy for the evening? You can stay at mine or here and I’ll be back by like eleven the latest to get her? It’s just -- Mum and Dad have had her so much recently and I know they don’t mind but I wanna give them a break. And Akasha just got that big promotion so she’s working weekends and stuff so she can’t--”_

_“Babe, relax. ‘Course I’ll have her.”_

His words are replaying in his head and Daisy hasn’t stopped screaming. Y/N warned him when she dropped her off that it’s a new thing she’s doing -- screaming bloody murder when nothing is even wrong. He laughed it off when she told him but now he’s got a splitting headache and she doesn’t want to do anything but scream.

There are no tears in her eyes or signs of distraught on her face. It’s all noise -- a noise Harry never wants to hear again. “Daisy, baby, that’s enough.” He’s been using a firm voice for the past thirty minutes and she isn’t listening. It only makes her scream louder and Harry can’t think straight.

She was fine when Y/N first left an hour ago but now it’s 7 pm which means it’s Daisy’s bedtime but she isn’t having any of it. He managed to bath her without an issue, only graced with the sound of her sweet belly laugh and gummy smiles. Now, she’s a little demon terrorising his home and he isn’t sure how much more he can take.

As much as he wishes Y/N wasn’t out on a date, he isn’t ready to message her begging for help because he can’t calm her daughter down after caring for her for just over an hour. One, Harry is far too prideful for that and two, he doesn't want to take her away from a bit of romantic normalcy.

But Daisy doesn’t have the same mindset on the situation and she’s trying to get a reaction out of Harry. It’s another three and a half minutes of deafening screaming when Harry has had enough. “Daisy Anne Y/L/N! Tha’s enough! There’s no need fo’ all o’ that noise!”

His voice is hard and loud, firm and clear and she’s silent for a solid ten seconds as Harry tries to compose himself. Guilt is quick to drown him and he’s ready to scoop her up before she starts crying, ready to grovel and apologise and let her have as many of those malted rusks as she wants.

But the tears don’t come. Instead, the silence is broken by an intoxicating giggle and Daisy is clapping to herself as she bounces from her seat on the carpet. Harry can’t quite believe his eyes but he says nothing else and lets the guilt wash away as he sits back on the sofa to close his eyes for a moment.

He doesn’t know how Y/N does it, if he’s honest. How she cares for her and makes sure she’s happy and content and fulfilled at all times. He’s always had so much respect for his best friend but now he thinks she’s on another level. Harry’s silently praising all the single parents out there.

He lets his eyes flutter open after a few moments and he spots Daisy crawling toward the coffee table. He doesn’t understand how her mood has changed so quickly, but he isn’t about to say anything about it in fear that maybe she’ll start screaming at him again.

He watches her little hands grasp onto the ends of the oak table and hoist herself to a standing position. His eyes are wide as he regards the young girl for a moment. He and Y/N have seen her stand herself up but she’s yet to take any steps alone and as magical as the moment will be, Harry isn’t prepared to be privy to it before Y/N is.

He reaches for his phone -- careful not to make any sudden noise that may startle the girl and he rounds the coffee table, standing toward the end of it with a fair amount of space that offers nothing for her to hold onto when she reaches the end.

Harry’s got the camera pointed to her, his brows raised just a little in anticipation as he settles across the room with his legs spread and arms open, beckoning her to him. “Ya gonna come t’ Harry, babe?” he coos softly, watching Daisy’s grin grow as she starts to pull herself along with the help of the table.

Harry’s hands are trembling just enough for it to be picked up in the camerawork and all he wants to do is scream Y/N’s name to have her witness it all. Harry’s bursting with adoration and pride and when she gets to the end of the table, she falls to her bum with a gummy grin that shows the little white stubs of her teeth.

“Good job!” Harry praises as she claps with squeals of excitement. He can’t quite believe what he’s just witnessed for a ten-month-old. He ends the video and sends it straight to Y/N without a second thought, throwing his phone to the side and crawling over to the girl.

He hauls her into his arms, zooming her across the air while still in his hold but Daisy loves it and her sweet laughter is melodic to Harry and he thinks she’s the sweetest creature he’s ever had the privilege to know.

“Ya such a clever girl! Ain't ya! Cleverest girl I know.”

He holds her to his chest, bouncing back and forth and she’s clapping still. Despite her earlier meltdown, she’s the happiest baby Harry’s ever known. Since she was born, Y/N instilled nothing but positivity in their lives when raising Daisy. She’s been an excellent mother and she’s shown Daisy that it’s okay to cry and be upset, but to always pick yourself back up after and if you need help, that’s okay, too.

Daisy has grown with a loving mother that has praised her and encouraged her throughout her milestones. Y/N has done everything in her power to make Daisy’s surroundings bright and positive and fun. She’s going to grow into such a wonderful, strong woman one day and Harry can’t wait to watch.

“Dada!”

He blinks, startled back to reality. Daisy is smiling softly, curls of hair crazy on her head but her cheeks are a healthy pink and her lips are wet from drool as her stubs of teeth sit above her gums. She claps her chubby hands again and reaches for Harry’s face.

Daisy smacks at his cheeks, wiggling in his hold as she babbles. “Dadadadadadada.” Soft giggles follow quickly after and Harry’s heart swells as it sinks to his feet. His mind is swimming as he keeps her close to his chest and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

Not only did Daisy just blabber her first word… she thinks Harry is her father and he’s trying to understand where she’s heard Dada from -- he knows for a fact Y/N has been trying to get her saying Mama so he’s overly confused.

Maybe she didn’t say Dada… maybe she was just blabbering about in the baby language she does. But she’s saying it again and again and Harry doesn’t know what to do.

His mind is blank in overdrive as he settles Daisy to bed. She’s out like a light in the pop-up crib he’s put by the sofa and as he sits with a cup of coffee and the TV on low, he’s battling with the decision he should make.

Does he tell Y/N what she said? That not only did she almost miss her first steps, but that she also missed her first word which happened to be something he knows would kill Y/N. Harry doesn’t think he has it in him to break such heartbreaking news and he convinces himself that it was just childish blabbering than her actual first word.

It’s nearly 8 pm when there’s gentle yet frantic knocking on his front door, and when he answers with a heavy frown, his eyes widen as a body is colliding with his. “She started walking? Are you kidding me?” Y/N pulls away, kicking off her heels and scurrying to the cot to coo at her sleeping baby.

Harry blinks back his confusion and closes the door behind her. She’s taking off her coat as she leans down to look at Daisy with pride and love and Harry gets a proper look at her. She’s dressed in a gorgeous black dress, one that hugs her middle and flares out in a slight skater skirt over her hips. Her breasts are fuller than the last time he ever saw her in a dress of this kind and she’s curled her hair and applied a little more makeup than usual.

She looks fucking gorgeous and Harry doesn’t think she’s ever looked as radiant and beautiful before. He knows she’s been a little self-conscious over her body since having Daisy, but he thinks that bit of extra, cushiony weight looks incredibly sexy on her. He chokes on his own saliva when she turns to face him and he suddenly remembers how early she is back from her date. 

Before he asks, she sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “It was horrible, don’t wanna get into it. Besides, even if it was good, I’d have walked out anyway after getting that video of her walking with the table. Fuck, what was I thinking? Going out on a date? Almost missed her first steps.” She throws herself down on his sofa and rolls her head over the back of it, knuckling at her eyes even if she knows it’ll ruin her makeup.

Harry thinks she’s too hard on herself, that she needs to let loose and remember that she’s more than just a mother. She’s a young woman with needs and friends and a life of her own, outside of her daughter.

He watches her get comfy and nick his coffee from the table, taking a quick swig and wincing at the bitterness. She's always known Harry doesn’t take sugar with his coffee, yet every time she takes a sip, she’s always shocked.

“Besides, I didn't feel much of a connection with him. I’d much prefer a night in with you two over a fancy dinner date anyways.”

Harry decides not to tell her about Daisy’s first word.

\-----

It’s been a success.

As Y/N bids goodbye to family and friends, she closes the door behind them and lets out a tired sigh. Her shoulders drop at the idea of no longer having to entertain guests for the rest of the evening.

“Mama, mama!” Little arms wrap around Y/N legs as Daisy tugs on her dress. She’s still got her party hat sat on her head and a pink _1 Today!_ sashay draped across her tiny torso.

She’s got a piece of cake in her hand as she brings it to her lips — the treat smashed and crumbled between her fingers and Y/N sighs inwardly at the stain it’ll leave on Daisy’s white dress and Y/N’s pink top.

“Bufday!” She jumps on her little feet and Y/N grins down at her, nodding and scooping the girl in her arms. She can still hear Harry scraping plates into the bin so she follows the noise into the kitchen and pops Daisy in her high chair so she can help and keep an eye on the now one-year-old.

“Yeah, baby. It’s your birthday!” She tickles her stomach, wandering past her to start loading the dishwasher.

The pair fall into an easy rhythm and before long, Y/N’s washing and Harry’s drying what wouldn’t fit into the dishwasher. Daisy is still babbling to herself, smashing two new dollies across the tray of her high chair and making explosive noises through her cake-smeared lips.

Y/N knows she’ll be on a sugar high for the night but she’s willing to sacrifice her sleep to know her baby had a good first birthday.

Harry had come over during breakfast — helped Y/N decorate the townhouse with balloons and banners and everything else they needed. He picked up the cake from the local bakery that Y/N’s grown to love and made the playlist where he shamelessly added a few of his own songs. (In his defence, Daisy loves his music and a lot of his songs from being in the band.)

And as much as Harry has adored seeing his goddaughter toddle around on her chubby legs and rip open her presents while sat between Y/N’s legs, and spit all over the cake when blowing out her candles — he hasn’t really been able to enjoy it.

His eyes have been stuck on Y/N the entire afternoon and early evening with a look in his eye that he knows resembles guilt and pity. He doesn’t want to tell her but he knows he needs to. He knows she hasn’t been able to keep up with everything going on in his career, and he understands — but he should’ve mentioned things sooner and now he’s dreading breaking the news.

“There’s this new Italian diner opening up by work next week. Thought maybe we could go next weekend? See what it’s all about?” Her proposition is expected, if Harry’s honest. He heard about the diner opening up a few weeks ago and he was waiting for the moment Y/N was going to make plans for it.

Harry gnaws on his inner cheek as she quirks a brow at him, handing him another plate. He cautiously takes it and begins drying it off with her grey tea towel. “Actually, uh… I’m not gonna be here next week…” He trails off with a cough, clearing his throat and glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

Y/N stills, hands submerged in the soapy water of the sink. He catches a certain glint of something wash over her face before she tentatively hands him a clean glass. She raises her brows to herself, tries to roll her shoulders back up but there’s something about his choice of tone that has her a little sceptical.

“Oh? What, have you got more interviews lined up again for the album?” Her question is asked as innocently as it’s intended. If she’s honest, she doesn’t know much about his career lately, and she feels awful for it. But she’s barely making it through raising Daisy and working her own job in the office as well as from home. She’s nonstop and on the odd occasion Harry does tell her anything about the album promo or eventual tour, it slips from her mind sooner than she’d like to admit.

But Y/N is certain she’d remember if he told her he’d be gone for a bit… especially as soon as next weekend.

Harry puts the tea towel down on the counter and turns to her. He doesn’t need to say anything for her to know he wants to talk, so with pursed lips and deflated shoulders, she shakes off her hands and joins him at the dining table, hands clasped as they sit on the surface.

She’s got her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip, eyes refusing to hold contact with his and Harry’s known her long enough to know this is how she handles uncomfortable situations in which all she knows is uncertainty and change. She knows he’s about to tell her something that’ll have a big impact on her and Daisy and she isn’t sure she’s ready for it.

She thinks he’s about to tell her in the few 5 months he’s been single, he’s met someone new. She’s scared he’s about to tell her he’s fallen in love with another woman and that she doesn’t like him spending so much time with the mother and daughter. She’s scared he’s about to inwardly tell her that yet again, she doesn’t stand a chance to him.

Daisy’s none the wiser to the change in mood, too busy squeaking softly and playing with her Barbies.

“I managed to push the interviews back a couple of weeks ‘cause I didn’t want t’ miss Daisy’s first birthday… but next Thursday I’ve gotta fly out to LA then to Jamaica and Japan and New York for promo for a couple of weeks.” She hears his words through a muffle, like she doesn’t actually want to know what he’s about to say.

Harry watches her nod her head, still gnawing on her lower lip and he inwardly winces at the thought of her making it bleed. “Okay,” she nods her head, releasing her lip and finally meeting his eyes. “When are you back? We can go to the restaurant then, it’s no biggie -- know you’ve got millions of fans to please, H.”

Her voice is lighthearted and joking but Harry can still pick up the hint of anxiety in her voice. He doesn’t know why she’s anxious now, she doesn’t know that the worst is yet to come and it’s hurting him knowing what he’s going to say. “Uh, October.” She nods again, a little cheerier than moments before and she cracks a smile.

She parts her lips with an optimistic smile, ready to say _it’s not too long_ but Harry can’t let her think too positively about the situation, so he opens his mouth before she can speak. “October, next year.”

His words echo in her mind like they’re screamed through a tunnel and she’s on the other end of it. Her mouth feels dry and she feels like she’s staring right through them. With two months, she could deal with that. An entire year? How is she supposed to survive without him? How is Daisy supposed to cope without him?

“Tour starts in three months, after all the promo.” Harry leans across the table for her hand, caressing her palms in his hold and he’s blinking back his own tears.

It feels surreal to her, like she had forgotten he’s this rockstar with millions of fans and a world to tour. Because he’s always been just Harry to her -- she never associated herself with the famous side of him. He’s always been her best friend and now Daisy’s godfather. He’s always been someone she adored and admired and relied on. And in the past two years, since he promised he’d be there the day he found out she was pregnant, he’s always somehow been more.

He’s been more than a friend, more than a godfather. He’s been constant and Y/N’s let herself fall into the trap her mind set of them falling in love. She’s let herself think that how they are now, is how they’ll be forever -- that things will only get better from there. But he’s leaving for a year and maybe those thoughts have been twisted into the crushing realisation that she’s a foolish idiot. That maybe if Harry felt even an ounce of the same way she does, he would’ve told her sooner.

Y/N thinks it’s the saddest case of unrequited love, but she couldn’t be more wrong. She doesn’t understand how much this situation is killing Harry, too. How badly he wants to bring her and Daisy with him but he can’t ask that of her. He can't ask Y/N to up her life and daughter for a year to follow him around the world. He can’t ask that of her when he isn’t her partner or Daisy’s father.

Y/N doesn’t understand how painful it was for Harry to hear she was going on a date, or how fucking happy he was when she came home early to spend the rest of the night with him and Daisy. She doesn’t understand how much he has grown to love being part of her new life, of being around them both every day and doing everything with them.

Y/N doesn’t think he wants her romantically because she’s not good enough for him, because he doesn’t find her attractive and never could. Harry thinks she doesn’t want him romantically because she has a child and she can’t risk losing anything constant in her life to a selfish whim, because he’s not Daisy’s father and never will be.

But they’re both wrong.

Y/N wants nothing more than for Harry to be her lover, to be Daisy’s father. She wants nothing more than for them to come home to one another, to take it in turns to coddle Daisy back to sleep on her sleepless nights, to teach her to write and count and spell her name. She wants Harry to hold her at night and kiss her tenderly and never leave. She wants him and his heart and his love.

And Harry wants the same. He wants to introduce Y/N as his girlfriend, and Daisy as his daughter. He wants to lay in bed with both his girls and he and Y/N coo over their little girl in the mornings when she comes running and tickles her stomach until she can’t breathe. He wants to take Y/N out on a date, to show her how she should’ve been treated by every other man she’s been with. He wants to write a shrine of songs about her and not feel like he can’t tell anyone who they’re really about.

He wants to settle Daisy to bed and run them both a bath, to hold her close as they sip some expensive wine and make love as the water sloshes over the sides of the tub. And maybe it’s taken him a while to realise this. Maybe while Y/N always knew part of her loved Harry more than platonically, he’s always been too afraid to see what’s right in front of him.

Because as he sits across from her, her hand in his hold, he realises she’s always been exactly what he’s wanted in his life. When he looks at her, he sees his future -- he sees them raising Daisy together, as her mother and father, he sees his hands on her swollen belly when she’s about to burst with his own child, he sees a ring on her finger and a white dress on her body as she walks down the altar. When he looks at her, no matter the state he’s in, he finds peace.

And now, it feels like any hope the two secretly had, has gone to shreds. And maybe they both know it, from the way they glance at each other across the dining table with empty stares. Maybe they both understand that unspoken acknowledgement of how they’re feeling. Maybe deep down, they know they feel the same in this moment, but doubt is reason enough for them not to believe it.

“A year.” Y/N swallows back the bile that bubbles up her throat, nodding to herself like she’s trying to shake the thoughts until they make sense. She doesn’t question why he didn’t tell her -- she isn’t sure she can handle the pain if he reasons that she wasn’t a priority to know. Part of her knows that isn’t the case, so maybe she’s scared of learning the truth.

Nothing more is said between the two -- they’re both too confused and conflicted within themselves about the situation. Because what do you say to your best friend that you’re secretly in love with, after telling them you’re going away for a year. It’s awkward, like they both want to cry and console the other but why? Why is now different to the last time he went away on tour? Why does it hurt so much this time around?

Why does it feel like, for the past two years, everything they’ve unintentionally worked towards is going down the drain? Why does it feel like it’s more than friends supporting friends through parenthood? Why does it feel like this year away will break them? That when Harry returns home to them, things won’t be the same? That every moment they’ve spent together will all be for nothing?

Though they only singularly had the hope that one day, this would turn into more, they feel hopeless now, together. They both know what this means and yet, it still hasn’t registered that they feel the same way. It shouldn’t be this hard, this painful. But they both know why, and yet, they’re not grasping what this ‘ _knowing’_ could mean for them.

They just have to say those words, those three words that can make this perfect -- that can promise a future that they could try to work on when he comes home. But they’re both too fearful of the looming, unrequited feeling that weighs heavy on their shoulders. So neither of them say a thing.

\-----

“Daisy, baby! Put your toys away for me, please. Dinner’s ready!”

Y/N’s dishing up two plates of spaghetti and meatballs and she bites back a yawn. It’s been a long few weeks if she’s honest and she can’t wait to relax this evening once Daisy finally settles to bed. Don’t get her wrong, she adores her little bundle of energy more than anything, but Daisy’s recently reached that age of her terrible twos and while she’s still polite and respectful, she has a habit of questioning Y/N’s every word.

“Okay, Mummy!” A smile tugs on the corners of her lips at her compliance and she thinks maybe she won’t kick up a fuss for bathtime after dinner.

Y/N’s been doing well considering she works full time and is a single parent. She’s tried not to rely on her family too much when it comes to taking care of Daisy and she’s proud of herself for barely having a breakdown.

But it’s been hard.

She isn’t going to lie and say it’s been a piece of cake going from unconditionally support from Harry, to no longer being in his presence and therefore having to physically do everything herself. But it’s given her a taste of what life would be like without him and while she can cope, she doesn’t much like it and neither does Daisy.

The two and a half year old comes bounding into the kitchen, dark curls atop her head bouncing and she’s got a proud grin on her lips. “Done, Mummy!” She claps her hands together in self-praise and Y/N smiles softly, reaching down to ruffle her hair a little.

“Good girl, go sit at the table.”

They sit down together to eat, Y/N taking sips of her water and Daisy from her sippy cup. She wears more dinner than she eats but she cleans herself up the best she can when she’s done so Y/N can’t really complain about it.

“Mummy, phone! Wan’ see Harry!”

She stops midchew, eyes blinking slowly and Y/N knows she should be used to this by now. It’s all Daisy’s been able to do in terms of seeing or speaking with Harry since he left. She doesn’t remember the times when Harry was physically around, and she’s grown accustomed to this being the norm to her and it pains both Y/N and Harry.

She isn’t used to it, though. Ever since she learned Harry’s name a few weeks after her birthday, it’s all she waddled around the house saying -- completely abandoning mummy and nanny and any other babble words she knew. It was Harry _this_ and Harry _that_. It’s been a constant head and heartache for Y/N and she hasn’t told Harry just how often her new habit is.

Y/N sets down her fork and leans closer across the table, finishing chewing her mouthful. She reaches for Daisy’s hand as the little angel gazes lovingly up at her. God, Harry’s going to be shell shocked when he sees her again. “Harry is busy tonight, baby.” A frown is quick to replace the hopeful smile and though the young girl had grown accustomed to his face through a computer screen, she’s also grown around the words _busy_ and _tomorrow_.

Y/N shakes her head and offers her baby’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Because... Harry is on his way here to see you tomorrow! How does that sound?” Y/N’s got on her excited Mum voice and the sound of it kindles somewhat of a conditioned response and Daisy’s smile is lighting up the room again, a gentle squeal tumbling from her lips and Y/N thinks she’s the proudest and luckiest parent alive.

In the year Harry’s been away, he’s missed so much. Sure, FaceTiming Daisy every couple of days has kept him up to date but he’s missed things physically. He hasn’t been around to watch her grow taller and wiser. He hasn’t been in the emergency room for the few times she bumped into some furniture or took a tumble off the swings. Sure, he offered soothing words of comfort over a call and blew kisses to the screen, but he wasn’t there to coddle her like Y/N knows Daisy needed.

It’s odd, really. While Daisy has only ever called Harry by his name (that Y/N’s aware of), part of Y/N wonders if she thinks of Harry as her father. Y/N has never told Daisy about Anson -- she’s far too young -- and come to think of it, Y/N isn’t sure she’s even implemented the idea of having a father. Maybe Daisy just has that bond with him -- a bond she doesn’t understand fully.

“Here! He comes here?!” There’s an untold amount of excitement in her voice that Y/N’s never heard before and the sound of it makes her a little sick.

She nods though, pushes a fat smile on her lips and reaches over to tuck brown locks out of her face. “Yeah, honey. Harry’s gonna come here and see you tomorrow. So you need to eat your dinner and have a nice, smelly bath so you can be all ready, okay?” She watches Daisy nod her head quickly, smile wide and beaming and as she shovels another cut piece of a meatball, Y/N watches with soft eyes.

She knows Daisy’s attached to him, knew it was bound to happen and she’s okay with that, really. Or she thought she was. Maybe she is, because she knows that even touring the world, he’s always going to be present in Daisy’s life. But the bigger part of her isn’t okay with it, and she knows why -- she gets it. Because although he’s always going to be part of her life, he won’t be the role she’ll grow to wish he was.

Because one day, Harry will have a wife and a child or three of his own and Daisy won’t be such a priority anymore. Because she will have to grow watching him raise his own children and forget about her.

The more she thinks about it, the more she pushes an obvious fact to the back of her mind. Maybe it’s not a fear she has for Daisy but a fear for herself. Because she’ll be the one that has to watch him love up another woman, to marry another woman, to start a family with another woman. And as his best friend, she’ll be there to support him and bite her tongue and pretend it doesn’t hurt. She’ll have to watch him father a child that isn’t Daisy and care for a woman that isn’t her, and that hurts.

She wants to save Daisy the same pain she knows she’ll inevitably face. But she’s too selfish to split them apart, to distance from him. Harry means too much to them both and she doesn’t think Daisy would be able to forgive her if she did. She doesn’t think she'll be able to forgive herself.

It’s all the same thing that’s in her head when she cleans up the dishes and gives Daisy a warm bubble bath. She can’t bring herself to giggle at the way Daisy shrieks at her pruning fingers and toes and she doesn’t laugh as hard when she gives herself a bubble moustache.

Settling her into bed in some fresh pyjamas with a bedtime story is another kind of difficulty. Y/N barely feels like she’s acknowledging the words on the pages as she numbly lists them off and Daisy scolds her for not using the voices like she normally does. All Y/N can do is sigh inwardly and try again, forcing out a monstrous voice for the Gruffalo and a tiny one for the mouse.

It’s enough for Daisy, though, because toward the last page or so, she’s drifting to sleep and it’s when her breathing evens out that Y/N really starts to feel sick. She’s alone now, nothing to distract her with and she glances at the clock on Daisy’s wall. Harry will be there in a matter of minutes and she’s going to have to face him.

She tries not to think about the opportunity they had to see him some couple of months ago when he had a few days free in Paris -- tries not to think about the bullshit excuse she told him just because she was too nervous to see him again. She hates that she’s so scared to be in his presence. Maybe she’s worried he’ll notice she’s acting odd, that he’ll somehow figure out she’s fucking in love with him. Or maybe she’s worried he won’t find her attractive in the year they’ve been apart. But then again, she tells herself he didn’t find her attractive before, so what difference is it going to make that she’s managed to tone herself up a little.

Either way, she doesn’t get much time to dwell on it because as she’s turning out Daisy’s light, the front door is slowly opening and Y/N can hear shoes scraping across the welcome mat. Her heart feels like it’s lodged in her throat, lungs feel like they’re caught in a tight fist and she can’t fucking breathe.

Part of her wishes it’s just her Mum, maybe even Akasha dropping by, but she knows it’s not when she hears a heavy bag fall to the floor. She knows he’s come straight to hers from the airport and she purposely left her phone in the kitchen all day so she wouldn’t see any update messages on his flights and whereabouts. She didn’t need the added anxiety of knowing the exact second he’d show up. Maybe now she’s just as bad as she would’ve been.

“Y/N?”  
  


There it is -- his voice. The voice she hasn’t heard in person for a whole year and she can feel tears stinging her eyes. She knows he likely rushed from the airport to get here in time to see Daisy before her bedtime. He probably hoped Y/N would’ve kept her up a little longer, just to see him and maybe even let _him_ settle her to bed.

But as Harry stands by the front door, shrugging his coat off and hearing complete silence, he’s reminded that Y/N has no reason to do that for him. Why should she keep her daughter up past her bedtime just to see him? Just so _he_ could read her a bedtime story? Harry knows Y/N doesn’t do that for any other family friends, so why would she do it for him? He knows he’s more than just a family friend, but to what extent? He isn’t Daisy’s father, he needs to remember that.

“Y/N?” He calls out to her again, toeing off his shoes and stacking them on the shoe rack to his left. He’s tucked his bag to the side and as he wipes clammy hands down his cream, flared pants, he feels his heart quicken at the sound of the floorboards creaking at the top of the stairs and that’s when he sees her.

Standing in her motherly glory in a pair of sweatpants and a white camisole, she’s smiling through teary eyes as she bounds down the stairs quickly, hands on the railing to steady herself. Harry thinks he might cry -- has his arms outstretched and he catches her when she crashes into him.

There are no reservations like they both had thought. Y/N wraps her entire body around his and Harry uses his strength to keep her as close as he possibly can. They make no attempt to pull apart, too caught in the moment and basking in the other’s physical presence again.

He still smells the same, cinnamon and mint but his hair has a hint of coconut to the mix and Y/N thinks he’s even more intoxicating than the last time she saw him. And Harry? Well, he can’t believe she’s finally in his arms again. She’s just as perfect as he remembers and if he’s honest, holding her as close to him as he is, is giving him the strongest sense of safety he's ever felt.

“Hi,” she greets softly in the crook of his neck and Harry lets out a choked but hearty laugh. “‘Lo, love.” His voice is gruff and deep and Y/N wonders if he’s even slept on his way back to them.

After a few more moments of silent caressing, they both pull away and Y/N settles her feet back to the ground. There’s a moment between them -- they both know it -- a moment where it’s been too long they both have the overwhelming urge to meet in a touching of lips. Y/N swears she sees him slowly start to lean in so she clears her throat and takes a step back with a smile, scratching her cheek softly and pointing to the living room.

She tries not to think about it, about how his body was slowly starting to lean into hers, about how his lips were subtly starting to pucker to a pout. She tells herself it’s just her mind playing tricks on her -- showing her what she wants to see -- so she shrugs it off and beckons him to sit on the sofa beside her.

Meanwhile, Harry tries to blink back the slight embarrassment he feels. He doesn’t know what washed over him and he wonders if she knows that’s what he was trying to do? If she saw his lips pout softly and eyes flutter a little slower. He figures she didn’t really react so he lets himself believe she didn’t notice.

Harry joins her on the sofa, a thickening silence looming over the pair and Y/N thinks she needs to act like a fucking adult and not let herself sit and cry over what they won’t become.

“How was tour?! Come on, tell me everything!” She’s eagerly crossing her legs as she faces him on the sofa, wide smile on her lips and they both think she’s got him fooled. He doesn’t say anything on her odd mood, decides to entertain what she’s asking because he hasn’t seen her in over a year and he’ll take what he can get.

He cracks a smile and twists to lean his back against the armrest, eyes noticing Daisy’s purple toy box by the TV and the little portable dolls house that he sent her for her second birthday that’s tucked under the coffee table, worn a little on the edges and it makes Harry smile a little to himself.

“It was good! Crazy, sold out every show and the energy in Copenhagen was unreal!” He gushes the best he can, tries to think back to every show and every amazing night he spent touring the world. But he can’t. His mind is a numbing blur of nothingness and he can’t concentrate on anything other than the overwhelming, nostalgic feeling of homesickness.

She raises a brow, like she wants him to continue and delve into the stories she knows he has, but he doesn’t. Instead, he swats her knee and reaches for her hand, intertwining her fingers and she tries not to show how her heart skips a beat and heat prickles at her skin. She’s thankful for the dim light of the living room as to not let him see her softening eyes and somewhat quivering lips.

“Tour stories are always the same, love. Wanna hear about you ‘n Daisy. How’ve m’girls been? Missed ya both loads.” She breaks into a smile, one of heartache and love and she shrugs shyly but Harry won’t let that do. He cranes his neck to meet her gaze and Y/N feels warm under his intensive hold.

With a sigh, she blinks away her rose-tinted view of the man before her. Though he hasn’t changed much in the year they’ve been apart, his hair has gotten a little longer and it’s starting to curl around his ears. He’s got a bit of a stubble, too, a longer one than she’s seen on him before and she can’t help but think he looks like the perfect father figure.

The thought makes her heart drop and stomach churn. _Stop it, Y/N._

She clears her throat and knuckles at the corners of her eyes with a yawn. “I mean, you haven’t missed much as we’ve been FaceTiming so much. Daisy’s excited to see you, though -- didn’t quite understand that she’d be seeing you here and not on the screen, but she’s excited. Drew you a picture and everything. She’s missed you.” she tells him, figures the safest bet for her is to just stick to Daisy but that’s not all Harry wants to hear about.

She watches how his smile grows with every word about her daughter and he’s left grinning with a soft pink tint to his cheeks when she finishes. “Cor, she’s the most precious, ain’t she. Fuckin’ missed her so much. Missed both of ya so much.” His voice breaks off into one of a gentle whisper -- a lulling, dulcet tone that Y/N thinks she could easily sleep to.

“Wha’ abou’ you?” he asks.

Y/N raises her brow, head tilting ever so slightly to the side and a light smile nervously graces her lips. “What about me?” she repeats his question, snuggling into the sofa and she knows now is the time for the proper catch up, to learn the type of things they’ve been getting up to that they weren’t able to talk about over FaceTime.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. Wanna know how you’ve been, love. How’s work? Mum and Dad and Kasha? Any possible fellas? Come on, I wanna know.” It’s expected for him to ask about work and her family, but about a possible partner has her spluttering silently to herself.

It’s something Harry tried to throw in casually but his heart is hammering after he awaits her response that shortly follows after a snorted chuckle. “Family’s okay, Dad’s been promoted so he’s got a proper office and stuff now, he loves it. Akasha’s met someone, a decent guy this time and he’s sweet, he’s really nice.” She lists off slowly, eyes on Harry’s shirt as she plays with the hem of her sock.

Her feet are bunched beneath her bum as her knees are bent and somewhat cuddled into the sofa. She’s pulled a pillow into her lap during her little update and Harry thinks she looks too cosy. He also notices how she’s trying her hardest to _not_ talk about herself at all.

He nods his head, brows raised and when she finally looks up at him, she knows he isn’t going to stop that face until she tells him all that he wants to hear and more. She doesn’t know why she gets like this -- why she hates talking about herself so much. She’s known Harry the majority of her life, she thinks she should be able to update him on her life without problem by now.

Maybe she’s too worried he’ll realise how boring her life is as a parent. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to admit to him what she did when he was away.

“And I’ve been alright.” She starts off with a shrug. “Works fine, I got a raise after this huge project I put together and it’s now leaning more toward a promotion, so that’s exciting.” There's a smile on her lips and Harry knows she’s happy about it but he can see a sense of hesitancy in her tone and eyes -- like she doesn’t want to continue and tell him anything else.

But she reminds herself that he’s her best friend no matter what -- even if he’ll never love her as she loves him -- she can’t pick and choose what she wants him to know about her life and what she doesn’t. “And I tried dating for a bit but that didn’t work out.” she shrugs it off quick and nonchalant, and Harry has to do a double-take.

He blinks quickly at her, wondering if he heard her right. His stomach is churning a little and the thought of her seeing other men settles something uneasy in the pit of his belly, but then he finally registers the last part of her sentence and he’s forced to worry that someone had hurt her, used her. He frowns. “Didn’t work out? Wha’ ‘appened?” he asks gently and Y/N’s sure it’s a pity question and she wants to cry.

She shrugs and shifts, swallowing down the lump in her throat. She feels uncomfortable and she shouldn't feel that way when it comes to Harry. She isn’t going to let herself feel that way now, just because she’s a little exposed and vulnerable. “I mean that’s the thing -- _nothing happened._ I dunno, just couldn’t get past like a third date and most the time when I told someone I was seeing that I had a kid, they ran off, so…”

Her lips are pursed and Harry thinks he wants to punch and thank every guy it didn’t work out with. His heart doesn’t feel any lighter on the fact that nothing worked for her. If anything, he feels sad and sick that no one committed to her, that no one’s been showing her the love and adoration she and Daisy deserve.

Maybe it’s also a blessing, too.

Y/N shifts again so her legs are crossed and a smile is back on her face, palms of her hands drumming teasingly on Harry’s upper thighs and he tries not to let his mind wander at the innocent gesture. “What about you? I’m a sad single Mum, my love life is nothing to talk about. I wanna know about the rockstars one-night lovers.”

_She doesn’t._

He splutters nervously, shaking his head with a grin and when she settles back against the armrest of the sofa, arms folded around her cushion and a loving smile on her lips, Harry decides he doesn't want to deceive her. He decides that he’s reading her right, that she’s being a little distant from him and that maybe it has something to do with the fact that she feels the same way he does but she’s too scared to say anything about it.

Harry doesn’t want to be afraid anymore. So he tells her the truth. The painfully exposing truth.

“Actually, my love life is no better than yours, love.” He doesn’t miss the confused frown that etches its way between her brows and he smiles to himself. If only she understood the impact she has on him from across the world. “Could gear myself up for it wi’ a bit of self-encouragement, but couldn’t actually let m’self sleep wi’ anyone. Could barely _kiss_ anyone, if ‘m honest.”

Y/N’s blinking slowly, shaking her head like she can’t understand what he’s saying and what he means. “What? H, why? That’s not like you.” she notes, shifting closer to reach for his hand. Despite acting as the thought of him being with other women doesn’t pain her, she knows better that Harry finds sex extremely important and is something he can be so casually and yet so personal and passionate about.

So to hear he’s gone an entire year and not _been able_ to have sex is a little concerning for him.

He smiles through a shaky breath, holding her hand a little tighter as an onslaught of butterflies flutter through his tummy. “I mean, it’s definitely your fault.” He tells her and Y/N’s frown deepens but she doesn’t pull back. She shakes her head softly, trying to figure out what that’s supposed to mean.

“Bein’ on tour, away from you and Daisy fucked wi’ my head too much. Missed you both so much, made me think a bit and realise a lot of stuff.” His words come out strong and steady in his usual dulcet drawl, despite being breathed through an uneven exhale.

Y/N’s head is tilted more, lips parted as she tries to find the connection. A part of her knows what he’s trying to get at -- the part that tells her heart to beat three times faster, that encourages her palms to grow clammy and sweat in his hold. It’s the part that’s always offered a disgusting amount of hope, the part that Y/N’s always tried to bury. The part that suggests he feels the same.

“Made you realise what, H?” she asks gently. Her tone is barely one of a whisper, something so soothing and reassuring and Harry feels so _safe_. He swallows, thinks he needs to get himself together before he tells her what’s been plaguing his mind the past year. “Can I see Daisy?” he asks her in a mirroring tone but he is riddled with desperation rather than reassurance.

She nods softly, standing from the sofa. With their pinkies still linked, Y/N guides him up the stairs and quietly into the nursery he had decorated before the two moved in. She sleeps in her bed, peaceful and beautiful, just like her mother. Tears of pride and love are what pool in his eyes as he silently pads closer to her toddler bed, leaning on the rails and pressing a featherlight kiss to her delicate skin.

Y/N remains barely two feet behind him, wanting to give him this moment with her but also not wanting to miss it. It’s a few moments before he rises back to his feet and he knows she’s eager to know what’s going on with him -- worried. He joins her side, an arm thrown around her shoulder and Y/N lets herself cuddle into the warmth of his side.

Harry presses a kiss to the top of her head. “She’s got so big, and I missed so much of it,” he notes, a sniffle soon following and Y/N cranes her neck up to get a look at him in the dim light of her daughter’s bedroom. “I don’t wanna miss anymore, Y/N. Don't wanna miss anything about her or you, and being away for a year made me realise that.”

Her hand is on his torso, resting upon the clothed skin and she feels his heart pick up under her touch at his own admission. Her own starts to tick faster than before and she thinks she knows what he’s about to say, but she isn’t ready for this. In all her life of being head over heels in love with him, she never expected for one day, he might tell her he feels the same.

“I’m in love with ya, Y/N. Always have been, and being away for so long made me realise tha’ you’ve always been it for me. Always been the love of m’ life. Always been the one I’ve chosen first, the one I’ve put before everything else. I'm in love with you.”

He stares down at her, a look on his face she’s never seen before and she knows she looks frightened. Her eyes are stinging with tears and there’s a massive lump in her throat. Anxiety is washing through her in overwhelming waves and she can’t handle it. She can’t handle this type of confession, even if it is all she’s ever wanted.

“Harry…”

“I’m in love with you, and I’m in love with her. I want t’ be a Dad to Daisy. I want t’ raise her with you and I want to be your partner -- your boyfriend, and one day your husband. Y/N, I love you so fuckin’ much, and I know ya love me too. Can see it in y’er eyes, baby.”

She’s shaking her head, taking a step back and inhaling a heavy breath. _This can’t be happening_. She feels sick, like she’s about to throw up her organs and cold sweat washes over her as her body starts to burn. She fans herself, shaking her head still as she shrugs off her cardigan.

“You can't…” she struggles to get her words out, swallowing down the lump in her throat and her lips quiver, stray tears racing to her jaw. Another sniffle. “Harry, you can’t just come back from a year-long tour and spring that on me -- on _us_!” Her hands gesture from herself to her sleeping daughter and she shakes her head again, trying to stop her mind from running as she and Harry leave Daisy’s room.

He follows her downstairs, hot on her tail as he tries not to collapse. His certainty is slowly dwindling to a wavering state of anxiety that she doesn't want him the way he thought she did, and he definitely cannot take the hard rejection he’s starting to worry she’ll give him.

“Of course, I love you, H. But you cant spring that on me after a year of being away. You can’t just leave for a year and then say to me you want to be a Dad to Daisy. It doesn’t work that way. Fuck…”

He approaches her slowly, tentative steps until he reaches her in the middle of the kitchen and she stares up at him, teary-eyed and hopeless. It’s a look he didn’t think he’d see when he told her how he feels, and it’s a feeling she didn’t think she’d feel. Yet here they are.

She lets his hands reach for her face, to cup her warm cheeks in his soft palms and his thumbs brush across her wet skin to dry the salty tears. She’s craning her head up to look at him and he’s dipping his chin down to see her -- to really see the pain and desperation written in her eyes.

“I’m here now, love. I’m here and I want to stay. I love you and I love Daisy. We can do this, baby. You and me, how it’s always supposed to be.” There’s a heaviness of light and excitement in his voice and it kills her, because as much as she wants this -- as much as she’s ready to smear her lips against his and finally let herself have him, they aren’t the only two in the equation anymore.

Y/N’s hands reach up and hold gently to hold his wrists, keeping his hands cupping her face as she sniffles with a small smile. “I love you so much and I always have.” She’s choking on her words and Harry can’t keep his thumbs in a pace that wipes all of her tears. “But I can’t make this kind of decision so quickly. I need to think of Daisy and how this is going to affect her. Just give me some time, okay?”

He understands, more than anyone could know. He knows it was selfish of him to throw it out on her like that, but more than anything, he knows the weight it’s lifted from both of their shoulders and the chance it’s now given them. He knows it’s not just them, that Daisy plays just as big of a part in this relationship and he wants what’s best for them both.

So he nods slowly and lets his forehead rest upon hers, their breathing mixing as she shifts her head to kiss the palm of his hand. She’s looking back up at him through wet lashes and a thankful smile. There’s an aura in the room, a comforting blanket that promises safety and warmth and they know things will be okay, no matter what happens.

“However long you need.”

\-----

His back is starting to hurt but he won’t admit that out loud -- not to the two-year-old, that’s eagerly wiggling her toes as Harry tries to paint them a lilac shade of purple. She’s laying on a pillow, a Barbie doll in her hands that she hovers above her head and makes a show of an overly dramatic American accent.

“Daisy, you’ve gotta stay still, babe.”

Harry’s gently holding her ankle in place to stop her from kicking about but he seems to have underestimated the young child’s strength and he almost knocks over the bottle of kiddy nail polish on Y/N’s yellow rug.

“Barbie! Barbie’s nails!” The plastic doll is shoved in Harry’s face before he can even move back and the leg of the toy pokes his nose, making Daisy blow out a bubble of small giggles that has Harry’s heart thumping in adoration. He takes the dolly from her hand and places it on the coffee table, lifting her ankle to his face so he can blow cool air on her painted toenails -- something that only makes her giggle harder.

“Tickles, it tickles,” she blabbers out breathlessly, soft squeals of happiness flooding through Harry’s ears and he doesn’t think he’s felt so complete in a long time.

He howls out an animalistic growl, playfully nibbling on her ankle before he crawls closer and lifts her pyjama top up her stomach, blowing gentle raspberries on her delicate skin and Daisy’s little hands make for his head, trying to push him away with all her little might.

“Gonna eat ya all up, Daisy.” He warns her in a playful tone, one that’s got a hint of a promise but even the toddler knows he’d never hurt her. She squeals again, though, trying to turn on her stomach to crawl away but he’s quicker, and as she makes it to her feet, he wraps his hands around her middle and hoists her in the air.

Harry’s running around the living room, hands under her arms as he sways her through the air. It’s a beautiful sight, he can imagine. Daisy can’t stop laughing, can barely even catch her breath, so he settles them both down on the sofa with a sigh and a plop and Daisy cuddles into Harry’s side with a wide smile.

“Again, again!” His eyes widen at her proposition and he looks to the clock above the fireplace. 6:50 pm. Harry shakes his head with a sigh, craning his neck to kiss her head and readjusts her pyjama top. “Not tonight, petal. Bedtime now. Gonna let me read you a story, yeah?” he asks.

Daisy crawls out of his side and toddles over to her toy box. She’s got a stack of books under the TV unit and pulling one out that he knows is Y/N’s, she hands it to him, climbing back onto the sofa again. She claps her hands, bouncing slightly. “That one!” she tells him, tiny legs crossed as she claps her hands softly, waiting for him to look at her.

His eyes dart over the cover of the book. _The Sun and Her Flowers_. He quirks a brow at the two-year-old and she leans closer to point her painted fingernail on the cover of the book. “Flowers. Mummy said I’m her flower.” Harry blinks. It’s the first time she’s mentioned Y/N since she left for work this morning and Harry had fully expected a meltdown by now, but she hasn’t had one yet and he isn’t about to let her have one now.

He nods. “Okay, baby. Flowers it is. Come on, let’s get you settled to bed.” Daisy puts her arms up, let’s Harry coddle her to his chest as he carries her upstairs and to her bedroom. She pulls her covers back, climbing in and she lets Harry tuck her under her covers, takes her stuffed dinosaur from him and gets comfy.

Harry’s never had the pleasure of settling Daisy to bed before. Sure, in the past two weeks he’s done it a lot with Y/N, but never on his own. He jumped at the chance when Y/N asked him to have her while she was at work all day and most of this evening. For the past two weeks, since he came home from tour, he’s been with her every day. He’s been proving to her that he’s serious -- that he meant what he said.

Last week, the three of them went to Holmes Chapel for the day and Daisy was quick to rename Harry’s family. Nanny Anne and Aunt Gems. Their hearts had all burst at the little girls' names for them and Harry let himself bask in it, in the little family they’re becoming.

“Okay, ready?” he asks her, sitting on the ground just beside her bed and she nods her head, knuckling at her sleepy eyes and Harry smiles softly to himself. He opens the book, clearing his throat and finding a random page within the book. He clears his throat.

“ _Rise_ , said the moon, and the new day came. _The show must go on_ , said the sun. Life does not stop for anybody. It drags you by the legs whether you want to move forward or not. That is the gift. Life will force you to forget how you long for them. Your skin will shed till there is not a single part of you left they’ve touched. Your eyes, finally just your eyes. Not the eyes which held them. You will make it to the end of what is only the beginning. Go on, open the door to the rest of it.”

His soft and dulcet tone lulls Daisy into a soothing state of sleepiness and he can’t help but mull over the poem in his head. His heart sinks when he rereads the words over in his head. Because this is what he would be doing, how he would be telling himself to move on if Y/N didn’t feel the same way.

He’d be shedding his skin of every inch she’s touched, praying to the moon for the sun to bring a better day. And maybe he has made it to the end where it’s only just beginning. Maybe he’s made it to the end of their friendship and the start of their forever. Maybe it’s wishful thinking that things will work out, or maybe it’s pure certainty.

“Go to sleep,” he whispers to the toddler. He closes the book and leans over the low rail on her bed, pecking a tender kiss to her forehead as she snuggles further into her blanket.

“Nuh-night, Daddy.”

His heart stops. He blinks quickly. His throat feels like it’s swelling, like a thick lump is lodged as his hands grow clammy and he struggles to know what to do next. He didn’t think he’d ever hear her say it again but this time it’s hit him harder than the first.

Because when she first blabbered it to him, she was barely ten months old and was only just figuring out what words were. Now she’s two and a half and she knows what she just said. She called Harry her father by choice because Y/N’s never taught her to say it, never gave a suggestion that Harry is her father. And that’s what makes it all the more special and daunting for him.

He thought he understood it before, when Y/N said she had to think of Daisy’s best interest. He thought he understood entirely because he knows the impact he’ll have on her if they’re more than just friendly. But now he’s seen it -- heard it -- first hand and he doesn’t want to run for the hills. He wants to hear her say it again and again and to Harry, this is the most precious moment of his life.

Being on stage every night and performing for thousands is nothing compared to hearing the little angel call him her father.

With tears welling in his eyes, he places another tender kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight, petal.” He wants to stay longer, to sit and watch her sleep, to protect her from any bad dreams that dare try to creep up on her. He wants to be by her side until morning rises when she can say _good morning, daddy_ and he can spend every waking hour with her.

But he hears the front door open and close and keys jingling as they’re placed on the little end table by the stairs, and he stands from his crouched position and wipes away and his glossy eyes with the back of his hands.

He leaves the bedroom, pulling the door closed and slowly making his way downstairs. Y/N’s in the kitchen, flicking on the kettle and pulling out two mugs for herself and Harry. He’s got the book in his hands still as he finds her, places it on the counter and he greets her in a warm hug.

She lets herself melt into his embrace, keeping her arms strong around him and the sweet scent of cinnamon and mint ground her, relieving the stress of work. He kisses the top of her head.

“Hi,” she sighs softly, rubbing his back in a soothing manner. He doesn’t say anything back, doesn’t even mumble anything that can be considered somewhat coherent. She pulls away with a frown, tries to read his glassy eyes and pink cheeks. She thinks the worst, though she knows she shouldn’t.

A frown slowly etches its way between her brows. “What’s the matter? Are you okay? Is Daisy okay?” Her voice rises an octave with each word and Harry shakes his head quickly, cooing her to a state of calm as he breaks a smile. “She’s fine, tucked up in bed after a story. She’s been an angel,” he reassures her. Harry tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Go sit down, I’ll make the tea.”

With a comforting kiss to her forehead, Harry brushes past her and Y/N makes for the living room. It’s tidy, pieces of paper strewn across the coffee table and as she leans closer to inspect them, she can see the pictures Daisy and Harry have been drawing and how he’s been trying to teach her to write her name.

She smiles wide, appreciative and full of love and warmth. Y/N was expecting a phone call from a stressed Harry and a teary-eyed Daisy but she didn’t. She got a few texts, ones with some pictures of Daisy drawing or with the bubble moustache Harry gave her when he bathed her earlier this evening.

In the past two weeks, he’s endlessly spent with them, they've had a taste of life together. He stays late, comes over early. He’s there most hours of the day, when he doesn’t have to run off to the studio for anything or a meeting. He cooks most evenings with Y/N, helps her settle the little rugrat and read her to sleep. But today and tonight he’s done that all on his own. And sure, one night doesn’t equal a lifetime, but he’d never be spending a lifetime alone caring for her, and neither would she.

Placing the drawings back on the coffee table, Harry joins her with two steaming brews in his hand. He offers her the tea first, settling beside her and resting his black coffee in front of him. She watches with sceptical eyes, can tell there’s something bugging him, something he needs to get off his chest and a small part of her is nagging and saying he’s about to take it all back. That after tonight, he’s changed his mind. That he doesn’t want them now.

“H… what’s going on?”

He watches her settle into the sofa just like Daisy had only thirty minutes ago and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt such serenity before. But there’s a pain in his chest at the idea that she doesn’t agree with what he’s about to tell her and he’s not sure he can stomach it.

“Daisy, she uh… she called me Daddy.”

She feels like she’s been hit in the chest, her eyes dry as her lips part and she blinks at him. He’s cosy in a pair of cream cotton trousers and a black t-shirt and he’s freshly shaven, longish wisps of hair curling around the cap he’s got on his head. Y/N thinks he looks the perfect part and her eyes start to sting with tears.

“She did?” her vision is blurred -- cloudy with pride and happiness -- and there’s a tightness in her voice, like it hurts to speak. He nods hastily, like he’s hesitant about how she’s taking the news and he can’t stomach the idea of her telling him it’s too soon.

But Y/N breaks into a gentle grin and a blubbering mess is what soon follows. She laughs as she wipes away her tears and all Harry can do it stare and wait. She nods until it turns into a head shake. “I guess she’s made the decision for us then.”

His eyes hold nothing but hope and excitement and his shoulders are no longer drooping and low. The weight of the world doesn’t feel so heavy right now. “Yeah?” he asks, voice light and he’s got his own tears welling. She licks her lips with another strong nod, shuffling closer so her knees touch his thigh and she connects their hands together, bringing his knuckles to her lips and she knows she’s making the right decision.

“Harry, if we do this… you can’t suddenly decide it’s not for you a few months in. If we’re doing this, we’re in it for good. No backing out.” Her words are spoken carefully, force behind each syllable as the pair of them grin from ear to ear like mad, Cheshire cats.

He nods his head, his turn now to bring her knuckles to his lips to kiss them with such tender vigour, he’s scared she’ll disappear if he lets her go. “No backing out, baby. I’m here and I’m here forever,” he promises and she knows he means it.

His hands reach to cup her face again, just like the night two weeks ago when he told her how he felt and she feels it’s only right for her to reach up to hold his wrists too. They’re smiling wide, can’t help but feel complete and utter bliss and this time they both know it won’t end with an aching heart and just leaning foreheads.

“Okay,” she whispers against his lips, eyes still on his as he grin grows impossibly wider. He’s trembling as he holds her, the excitement and rush almost too strong to contain. “Okay?” he asks her, like he needs all the validation, like he needs to keep hearing her say it so he knows he isn’t dreaming.

She nods her head, repeating his words and his lips are inching closer to hers. She can taste his breath, minty and warm and it’s intoxicating. “S’tha’ mean you’re my girlfriend now?” he teases through his smile and she can’t help the drunken-like giggle that bubbles from her throat as she nods giddily.

“Can I kiss you?”

His nose brushes against hers softly as their eyes flutter closed in contentment. She licks her lips, as does he, but neither can see the other. “If you kiss me, you’re stuck with me,” she teases back but she isn’t met with a laugh as she expected.

Instead, she’s met with soft lips pressing against hers and the wind is knocked out of her lungs. She lets go of his wrists and tangles her fingers in the hairs at the nape of his neck. His hat falls from his head as he kisses her harder; lips enveloping lips as they sway the dance of a never-ending tale.

He tugs her closer, has her straddling his lap as he licks into her mouth, gentle yet eager and they can’t get enough. Butterflies swarm around in their stomachs as warmth fills their body and neither have ever felt a sense of happiness so strong before.

He wills himself to pull away, to peck her lips again as he brushes the hair from her face. His eyes flutter open, adjusting to the light and all he can see is her. When he looks at her, he sees the love of his life, the woman of his dreams. And when she looks at him, she sees the man that’s never left her side -- she sees their future.

Harry noses at his lovers’ jaw, kissing a trail to her lips again and they blink through their rose-tinted view as tears of utter bliss and love slip from their eyes.

“I wanna be stuck with you. With both of you.”

\-----

**if you made it to the end, you could be entitled to compensation. thank you so much for reading and sticking through with this rollercoaster!!! i’ve had so many doubts while finishing and editing this fic that it wasn’t that great and it was a waste of 35k, but i also loved writing it too much?? there will be a bunch of spinoff oneshots and blurbs that will come of certain parts of daisy, y/n and harry. and thank you again so much for over 10,000 followers (on tumblr)! i really cannot believe we hit that milestone, so thank you!**

**feedback on this piece would mean so incredibly much to me, i’d truly appreciate it so much. thank you again for reading!! <3**


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